The Joker and the Queen of Hearts
by HarlequinEnigma896
Summary: Fresh out of college, Addison Wayne is looking forward to the future, despite the inertness of her life. But what will happen when she has a run in with the Clown Prince of Crime? Rating is subject to change to an M.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone! I've been writing this now for a while, and only just decided to put it on . After watching TDK, I just fell in love with it, and I was practically forced to write this. Comments are always welcome!**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from Batman, save for any original characters that I've thrown in here. They belong to me and _cannot_ be used by others. Glad I've made everything clear.**

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_**The Joker and the Queen of Hearts**_

_5:58_; well, at least that's what the clock said. I was hardly in a state to judge. I lifted my head slowly from my pillow, guiding myself as I sat up, perching against my headboard. With a bit of self disgust, I realized that I still wore the same outfit that I had the night before. _Brilliant, _I thought to myself. My mind was clouded with what was usually morning unresponsiveness, but had now been translated into an early evening thing.

I stood from my bed, moving towards my bathroom, but was interrupted by the phone ringing. With an aggravated sigh, I picked it up.

"Hello?" I greeted quietly, my voice thick with sleep. My greeting was met with laughter from the person on the other line.

"What were you up to last night, Addie?" A deep, familiar voice asked. I took in a breath, preparing to answer, but tripped over a pair of heels.

"Shit!" I cursed, landing on the floor with a thud. Again, I heard laughter. My lips curved downwards, forming a frown. "What do you want, Bruce?" I questioned in a hiss.

It took a few moments for him to compose himself. I waited, taking the time to stand up. It never surprised me that, though he may have been laughing a moment before, my cousin rarely had laughter in his voice.

"Don't you remember? We're supposed to meet for dinner in an hour and a half. You know, to celebrate?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, smacking my forehead. I knew there was something I had to do. "I remember." Occasionally procrastinate

"Huh, because judging from your voice, I'd think you'd forgotten."

Ah. He knew me too well. "Alright, I forgot. But I'll be ready." I promised.

" Good." He said, adding: "By the way, you should probably remind your boyfriend about dinner."

Peter. I had no doubt in my mind that he had forgotten as well. "I will, Bruce. Now can I please go?"

"Yes. I'll see you in bit."

"Okay, bye."

I hung up the phone, pausing for an instant before punching in a different number. It took several moments for him to answer, which he did. But the perky voice that greeted me (through girlish laughter) wasn't one that I recognized, and was definitely not one I wanted to hear.

"Hello?"

I hesitated a moment before answering, sighing with frustration. It didn't surprise me that Peter would pull something like this.

"Hello. Is this Peter Benson's phone?" I questioned, annoyance seeping into my voice. I honestly didn't care if this girl knew it, though her valley girl voice made her sound too brainless to understand my frustration.

"Oh, yeah! Hold on." She giggled. I glanced at the clock, checking the time as I waited for Peter to answer.

"Who is it, babe?" I heard Peter ask quietly. It didn't take any thought for me to figure out that he wasn't talking to me. I hit my head hard on the wall a couple of times, scolding myself for allowing this to happen.

"What does she look like, Peter? Is she blond?" I inquired. The other line went dead.

"Uh…" Was his well thought out response.

"Charming."

"No, it's not-"

"We'll talk about it later. Right now, I just need you to get your ass out of wherever you are and ready for dinner with Bruce in an hour, if you remember." I hissed, slamming the phone done on the receiver. "Ugh," I breathed, disgusted, spreading my fingers to rest on my face, covering it slightly. I'd begun to question why I'd even started dating Peter. Yes, our relationship was happy at the beginning; fun, even. But that was short-lived, and hardly worth my current situation.

I exhaled slowly, pulling my hand from my face. Whatever. I could deal with this.

Now fully awake, I walked across the bedroom of my penthouse apartment, entering my bathroom. I could feel the remnants of hairspray clinging to several locks of my wavy, dark brown hair. I gave a sideways glance at the mirror, my emerald eyes settling on my reflection. At best, I could have been called disheveled. Shaking my head, I moved to my shower, opening the glass door and turning on the water. I threw my clothes on the floor, stepping into the shower. I focused on nothing but the water droplets hitting my skin, washing away all my emotions and leaving me hollow.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

A little under an hour and a half later, I parked in the nearest parking garage to the restaurant, Giacomo's. I was glad Bruce had picked our favorite Italian restaurant for my celebration dinner.

I stepped out of my car, grabbing my purse quickly before slamming the door shut. I began to walk in what I was sure was a relatively lifeless stride, reaching into my purse as I did so and pulling out a red gloss, coating my lips with it and throwing it back into the bag. It brought a bit of color to my otherwise colorless ensemble, as everything else I wore was black.

I was glad that the restaurant was only two blocks away. Leaning casually against the window was Bruce, staring out into the night. "Bruce!" I called to him as I drew closer. His gaze turned to me, and a smile lit his face.

"Addie, it's great to see you." He greeted, opening his arms. I walked into them, embracing him tightly. It had been at least a month since I'd seen him.

"It's great to see you too, Bruce." I returned, a glimmer of a smile on my face. My cousin had always been the only one I could turn to for everything. We pulled away from each other, him examining my expression.

"Are you okay?" He asked, clearly concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine." I responded, nodding. I wasn't sure if he believed me, since he was perceptive about these things, but he said nothing after that. Instead, he opened the door, allowing me to enter the restaurant and following a step behind me.

"Welcome to Giacomo's." The host greeted with a smile. Bruce stepped in front of me.

"Thanks. We have a reservation under Wayne." He told him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit. The host nodded, flipping through several papers, searching for our name.

"Party of three?" He asked, looking up. His smile vanished, as only two of us were present. Bruce looked over to me expectantly.

"The other member of our party will be showing up a bit later." I confirmed. Again, the host nodded.

"Right this way, Mr. and Miss Wayne." He said, leading us to a more private, more atmospheric part of the restaurant. He gestured to a table up against the wall with three chairs. 

We walked to it, sitting down across from each other. Within moments a waitress approached us, pouring glasses of champagne.

"So," Bruce began, drumming his fingers on the table several times. "Where's, uh…" He trailed off, clearly having forgotten his name.

"Peter." I offered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Right, Peter. Where is he?"

I gave a small sigh. "I'm not sure, but he'll be showing up a bit later." I informed him, pretending to be thoroughly interested in my champagne glass. I stayed quiet for a few moments, knowing that if I did, Bruce would understand.

"So, what were you up to last night?" He questioned, changing the subject.

"Oh," My mind instantly flashed back to the previous night. "It was just a bit of clubbing. You know, to let loose after finals."

He laughed at that. "I thought you weren't into clubbing."

"I'm not really; I was more or less forced to go by the girls I roomed with before." I told him honestly. I was thankful to be back in my apartment after spending several years in the dorms, although it had given me the "college experience".

"Well, I'm glad. You're too smart for that college craziness." He chuckled, patting my arm. I knew the main reason he said that was not to commend me for my intelligence, but to deter me from considering a life of partying, like most socialites lived. Bruce, being nine years older than me, had always been protective of me; especially since we were the only Wayne's left.

Off in the distance, I heard loud footsteps approaching. I turned my gaze to see Peter, trudging towards our table, looking slightly disheveled in his suit, but the same as always: perfectly mussed blonde hair, blue eyes, and a muscular body, looking exactly like the male model that he was. Both Bruce and I stood up to welcome him. The two of them shook hands.

"Hi," Peter greeted stupidly. I kicked myself inside, slightly embarrassed for his lackluster greeting.

"Nice to see you again, Peter." Bruce responded, though he didn't offer a smile. Peter nodded in agreement, then turning to me. I said nothing, but let him plant a quick kiss on my mouth before sitting down again.

"Well, now that you're here, we can toast." My cousin articulated. The waitress, having heard him, brought another glass of champagne. We all picked ours up, Bruce raising his.

"A toast to my cousin, who just graduated from Gotham University after double majoring in political science and economics, and minoring in English." He spoke. Both Peter and I remained silent. "So, here's to you, Addie; my only family and my closest friend."

Bruce ended his short speech with a smile, followed by us clinking glasses and taking a swig of champagne.

* * *

Dinner had lasted much longer than I had anticipated. Or maybe it hadn't, but with the high levels of tension between all of us, it felt as though I was being put through slow torture. We all walked out of the restaurant, none of us uttering a word. That was, until I pulled out my keys.

"Do you want me to walk you to your car?" Bruce asked, lightly touching my arm. I gave a small chuckle, waving my hand as if to say "no need".

"I'm fine, Bruce."

He gave me a skeptical glance. "Addie, you know that Gotham isn't safe at this time of night." He informed me.

"I know that. I'm only two blocks away, in the parking garage." I reassured him that I was in no danger, but I knew that he wasn't sold on the idea of letting me walk back alone.

"My car is in the same place," Peter, who had said nothing since we'd come outside, offered. "I'd love to walk back with her." He put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I placed my hands on his shoulder in an attempt to distance myself from him.

Bruce considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright." He agreed, still looking concerned. I pulled myself away from Peter in favor of Bruce, who placed a hand gently on the back of my head, as though he were comforting me instead of saying goodbye. I sighed inwardly at that. Bruce knew what was going on between Peter and me. He always knew. "You'll be ok." He whispered in my ear. I said nothing. "Goodnight, Addie." He said, releasing me.

"Goodnight."

I waited for him to walk a few steps in the opposite direction before I turned to Peter. He gave me a warm smile, extending his hand for me to take. I brushed past him, walking the two blocks quickly as he struggled to keep up.

"Addie," He panted. "Addie, wait!"

I paid little attention to him as I strode up to my car, pressing the button on my keys to unlock it. At last, he caught up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me to face him. It took a moment for him to catch his breath.

"Listen to me. I-"

"So you can say what?" I asked coldly. "Because if you have something worth saying, I'd like to hear it."

Peter's hands were still on my shoulder. "That girl, she wasn't… I… I'm sorry." He apologized breathlessly, releasing his grip on me and scuffing his toes on the concrete. His eyes lowered to the ground as well.

"That's it?" I questioned angrily. "That's all you have to say?"

"I said I was sorry." He retorted defensively.

I was quiet for a moment. "I understand." I grumbled. He looked up hopefully.

"Really?"

"Yes, absolutely; whoever helps you get the job done." I hissed, turning away from him and beginning to approach my car.

"Addie, stop it." He commanded, grabbing my wrist. I raised my other hand, balling it into a fist, spinning around. I threw a punch at Peter's face, causing him to stumble and clutch the reddening spot. I ran up the sidewalk on the ramp leading to the next level, hiding behind one of the columns. I waited several minutes, my back pressed firmly against the cement column, until I heard him drive away.

"Ugh," I sighed loudly, turning my head around the corner. No sign of him. I pushed myself away from the wall, nearly tripping in the process. I stumbled down the ramp, steadying myself with the side of my car. I leaned against it, crossing my arms over my chest and staring off into Gotham's crowded skyline. Something about the utter blackness of the night sky made me slightly uneasy.

I found out that I had a reason to be uneasy. While watching the sky, I heard footsteps approaching me. My first thought was that it was Peter, but I heard a strange, familiar sort of chuckling that sent a chill through me.

"I didn't like the sound of that." A voice that was deep, gravelly, and whiny said from behind me. My blood ran cold as he questioned, a mere foot away from me: "A little lover's spat, huh, beautiful?"

I spun around, ready to strike, but was stopped when a purple gloved hand seized my wrist. For a moment I averted my eyes, looking down at his purple and green suit.

"You know, for someone of your… social status, I'm surprised that you're so rude when meeting someone for the first time." He chuckled. I dared to look up at the lower half of his face, tracing the red paint on his white face from each corner of the smile carved permanently into his skin to his mouth. He dragged his tongue slowly across his lower lip. At last, I ran my eyes over him, from his scraggly greenish hair to his purple shoes. My gaze locked with his brown eyes, which were dulled by the black that stretched from his eyebrows to under his eyes.

"But, then again," He continued. "I like my women fiery."

I'd seen him countless times on television, and had numerous talks with Bruce about him, but I never guessed that I would ever see him in person: The Joker. I bit down on my tongue to keep from screaming. I was positive that it wouldn't help my situation.

The Joker flashed a wide, slightly discolored smile. "Let's not lose all of our spunk so quickly, sweetheart." He said, grabbing onto my other arm tightly. "It would ruin all the fun."

"Let go of me." I ordered, regaining some courage, almost succeeding in pulling an arm away from him.

"Ah, sh, sh, sh." He quieted me, pulling a shotgun from his trench coat and pushing the barrel against my temple. "Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be." He said teasingly. I stopped struggling, nearly going limp. "Good." He commended me. "Now, I want you to get into the car." He instructed, forcing me into the passenger seat of my car, slamming the door shut. Within moments he was sitting in the driver's seat, holding out his hand, silently demanding the keys. I dropped them into his hand. I didn't care if he took my car at this point, I just had to get out. I reached for the handle on my door, it being my only hope for escape.

"Now, now, " He began. I heard a click in the background. "They have child locks for a reason, baby."

I cringed as he licked his lips, producing a rope from his pocket. He nimbly tied my left wrist to his right one, connecting us with the rope. I shut my eyes as he grabbed my chin, turning my face in his direction.

"Hey, hey, open your eyes." He demanded. I took several heaving breaths before complying. My eyes, wide with worry, shock, and fear, met his. He placed his other hand on my right cheek. "This is gonna be a lot of fun." He grinned.

I clung to myself as best I could as he started the car, backing up quickly. I continued to take deep breaths, squeezing my eyes shut as he began to drive, letting out his signature chuckle.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly while I sat, tied to The Joker. I had my arms folded defensively across my chest for most of the ride, and, at first, said nothing. The Joker would flip through the radio stations, talking to himself as he did so.

"No, no." Could be heard as he passed the ones he didn't like. At last, he settled on a station: static. I was tempted to cover my ears, but resisted the urge.

The Joker turned his head towards me. "D'you ever listen to this station?" He asked, paying little attention to the streets. Good thing they were virtually empty. "No? Well, it's my favorite."

I didn't respond. Deep down I was incredibly nervous, but I was afraid that my voice would show it, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it. He sighed loudly.

"C'mon, don't tell me you're as boring as you're being right now." He begged sarcastically, rolling his eyes and pretending to yawn. He leaned closer to me, pinching my cheek. My reflexes took hold before my reason did, and I slapped away his hand.

"Don't." I spat.

He laughed loudly. "Now that's more like it!" He praised through his laughter. "You may be trying to hide it, but I can tell that you're lots of fun."

I gave a tug at that, trying, futilely, to pull my arm away from his.

"Getting antsy, are we?" He questioned. "Not a problem. We're here."

I looked out the window, realizing that, wherever we were, the car had come to a stop. In the distance, there was a dock. Old trucks crowded the area. The building in front of us was composed of rusted metal, and looked to be abandoned. An equally rusted sign read: "Laffs A-Lot". I couldn't explain it, but the misspelling of "laughs" was completely eerie.

The Joker must've caught me analyzing the building.

"Nice, isn't it?" He asked, licking his lips. "It's the perfect bachelor pad for a guy like me."

The Joker opened the car door on his side. I gasped as he took hold of my wrist, pulling me out of the car along with him. I fell to the ground, my knees scraping on the cement. From behind me, I heard a switchblade open. I froze, my breathing stopping as well.

"Get up." He commanded, holding the knife just in front of my neck, his other hand clenched on my shoulder. I stood slowly, and he rose with me. "Good girl." He commended me. "Now, I want you to walk forward and open the door."

I walked forward, pushing the door open. The room we entered was lit by only one light hanging from the ceiling. The room was furnished by several decaying couches and blood-stained tables. Several men wearing clown masks sat on the couches.

"Look what I brought back, boys!" The Joker grinned, presenting me as though I were a prize of some sort. "Isn't she a doll?"

His question was met with low chuckles and a whistle. My ears burned at the sound.

"Ah-ah!" He quieted, pulling out his shotgun, lifting up our connected wrists to show them. "Let me make this very clear: she's _my_ guest, and that means she's mine to entertain. Got that?"

The clowns grumbled and nodded.

"Good." The Joker said. "Now," He looked over to me, putting the gun away and reaching up a hand to brush a bit of hair away from my face. "Why don't you introduce yourself, huh?" It wasn't a request, of course. I considered the option of using a fake name, but the Joker might've known already, and, to be honest, I was afraid of what he would do when he found out I had lied.

"A-Addison." I mumbled, unable to find my voice.

"Say it louder." He demanded, brandishing the blade which he held. My eyes widened at the sight of it, and I swallowed hard.

"Addison Wayne!" I hissed, pushing his arm away. He looked impressed.

"Well, we have a Wayne here! This is a real treat." He quipped, clapping his gloved hands together. "Do you mind if I call you Addie?" He asked, bursting out in laughter. He grabbed my face in his hand. "How about an answer, hmm?"

"No." I responded, grabbing onto his hand to pull it away from my face.

"No what?"

My cheeks began to sting. "No, I don't mind if you call me Addie!" I yelled, losing my former control, kneeing him in the groin. He doubled over, laughing. I stole the knife from him, cutting apart the rope that connected us. I bolted for the door.

"Get her!" I heard The Joker order. Without delay, his henchmen obeyed. I was halfway out the door when many rough hands grabbed onto me, dragging me backwards. The Joker, now standing, approached me.

"You do have some fire in you. I'm glad." He smiled, grasping my arm and jerking me towards him until our bodies touched. I turned my head away. "Hey, look at me!" He growled, gripping the back of my head. I looked him dead in the eye.

"I want you to know that it doesn't end here," He began, leaning forward and whispering in my ear: "The fun has only just begun."

I could feel my skin begin to pale, my blood running cold as The Joker let out a sinister chuckle that reminded me how absolutely powerless I was in this situation.

It was then that the shadows engulfed all of my vision, ridding the world of all colors.

**_Thanks for those of you that reviewed! I'm glad that this story has, so far, been well received here. I do enjoy getting comments, so whenever anyone can, just give a little feedback, maybe? I would definitely appreciate it!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

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I awoke to the sound of doors slamming. I sat up quickly, groaning as I did so. It was clear that I hadn't moved for quite a while, since my entire body was stiff. A headache clouded my mind. I reached up to my forehead, pressing a hand against it. I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling loudly. What had happened last night?

I gasped when I opened my eyes, jolting myself backwards from where I sat, hitting the wall. The room I was in was lit by one old, flickering fluorescent light. The brick walls were covered in a chipping white paint. The floors were discolored cement, though a stained rug covered a large area in the center of the room. I realized that I was sitting on a mattress with nothing but a thin blanket on it. My door was open, and two people stood just outside of it.

"Is she awake yet?" Someone asked. Instantly, I knew it was The Joker. Quickly, I laid myself flat on the mattress, closing my eyes. I heard the door creak open a bit more, probably for them to look in.

"Not yet, boss." One of his clowns responded. I opened one eye, just enough to see. The door creaked open more. The Joker peered in, his gaze settling on me.

"She is now." He said, pushing the clown aside and walking into the room. My heartbeat grew faster as he approached. _Idiot!_ I scolded myself. I opened my eyes completely; there was no point in keeping up with the charade.

"Good morning, beautiful!" He greeted me enthusiastically, bending down so he was a bit above my level. "Feeling better?" He questioned, patting my cheek. I breathed in deeply, praying that I projected the illusion of confidence.

"Not exactly." I answered coldly, edging away from him.

"Well, that's truly tragic, isn't it?" He said. Of course it wasn't a real question; he'd clearly lost interest. He gave me a slap on the cheek. It wasn't incredibly hard, but it was enough to cause my face to sting. "You gave out on me before the excitement could really begin." He lamented, standing up. I said nothing.

"Look," He sighed, wetting his lips. "I know that you're not this boring; that's why I brought you here." He began, pulling me up by my neck and placing me on the floor, his hand still gripping me harshly. "I want you to talk more, maybe even smile. And that's just what I'm gonna make you do." He grinned, pulling my face close to his. "You have ten minutes." He hissed, releasing me. I fell backwards onto the mattress, clutching my neck. I watched with a venomous glare as The Joker walked out of my room.

I took the ten minutes he'd given me to look around. Of course, there was nothing much to see. I realized that my "room" was on the upper level of Laffs-A-Lot. There were only two other doors, one of them being the bathroom. I took a few moments in there, looking in the mirror, checking to see if anything had been done to me in my sleep. Good. At least I appeared to be untouched.

I heard a knock on the door. "Ten minutes is up." The voice said. It was The Joker, of course. I inhaled, opening the door.

"Good to see you again." He greeted as though it had been months since we'd last seen each other. I stepped out of the bathroom slowly. Near the stairs, two of The Joker's henchmen stood, whispering and chuckling. One of them pointed at me. I gritted my teeth together. His eyes followed mine, settling on the two men. He placed his hands on my shoulders, glancing sideways at them. "Is there something you want, huh?" He asked them, smiling viciously. They shook their heads, grumbling "no", and ran down the stairs.

"You should be glad I put your room so close to mine, sweetheart." His hands traveled from my shoulders to both my back and head. His face came closer to mine. "Otherwise, my clowns would've been all over you." He said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I don't know what it is about you, but guys can't seem to get enough." He paused after saying this. His expression turned eager. "Know any good jokes? How about magic tricks?"

"Maybe." Was all I said.

"Oh… a bit of mystery, huh?" He asked, flicking a bit of hair away from his face and straightening his tie. "I like it."

He pulled his hand away from my head, his touch dropping instead to the small of my back as he began to guide me down the hallway. Opening a door on our right, The Joker let me step in first, then followed. I could hear the door locking behind us. I swallowed hard, shaking the chill out of my system. I should've expected that move.

"Sit." He commanded me. As I sat in a beat up wooden chair, I took notice of our surroundings. The floor was covered with shreds of paper, abused books, and playing cards. Several crates sat in a corner, though I could barely make out the labels. I looked ahead of me, 

and I knew that this must've been The Joker's office. He sat down across from me in a torn swivel chair, resting his elbows on the surface in front of him.

His desk was scattered with newspaper articles, each person having been drawn on by him, all of them wearing his make-up. He'd written his laughter on the papers, too, all of the pages containing "HA" scattered in various places on them. Many of the headlines had been changed, having been taped over by cutouts from other newspaper articles.

A plate with a half eaten piece of chocolate cake sat next to an old, black phone. The Joker must've seen me eyeing the cake, because he asked: "Hungry?"

"No." I lied. It had been at least a day since I'd last eaten.

"Suit yourself." He responded with a shrug, picking up the fork from the plate and slicing off a chunk of cake. I didn't know if he was trying to torture me, but at the time it seemed like it.

"So," He started, still chewing. I cringed slightly at the sound. "You're a Wayne, right?"

I nodded hesitantly.

"Sorry to hear that there's only two of you left." He pretended to sympathize. He propped his feet up on the edge of the desk. "Let's get to know each other."

"What do you want to know?" I questioned tiredly. I watched as he licked his lips in thought. At last, he leaned forward.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty." I answered automatically. If these were the kinds of questions he would be asking, I had little to worry about.

"That's nice." He responded. Again, he ran his tongue across his lips. "Oh, and by the way," He began, pulling his knife out of his vest pocket. "It's not a good idea to lie. Just so you think twice." He said it as a reminder. I swallowed hard at the sight of the blade. "Now, who is the person you're closest to?"

I was silent for a few moments. I opened my mouth to answer, prepared to mention anyone but Bruce, but heard the repetition of a loud, familiar ringer: my cell phone.

* * *

_**Apologies for taking so long to upload this chapter! I've had a lot of homework that required a great deal of writing, but I have completed everything from said homework load. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter; it seemed a lot longer in word! Anyways, feel free to review! I should have the next chapter up either tomorrow or the next day.**_

_**-HarlequinEnigma**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

* * *

When did he take my cell phone? My eyes traced his desk until I found it: partially buried beneath a series of newspapers. The Joker brushed the papers onto the floor. "Answer it." He invited, though I knew it was more of a demand. Regardless, I hesitated. "Answer it." He commanded again, this time, grabbing my wrist and holding his switchblade mere centimeters from it. With my left hand I snatched my phone, flipping it open.

"H-Hello?" I greeted shakily.

"Addie! Thank god!" I heard Peter's voice on the other line. "I've been trying to reach you for hours!"

I looked to The Joker, who mouthed: "Put it on speaker-phone."

This time, I obeyed without delay. Peter's voice could be heard throughout the room. "Why didn't you answer?" He asked. I remembered why, even if I _did_ have my cell phone, I wouldn't have answered. I scowled.

"Why should I have? It's not like I have anything to say to you." I spat. A smile began to spread across The Joker's ever-smiling face.

Peter sighed into the phone. "Because this time is different. I _promise_ that I'll never-"

"Shut the hell up, Peter." I interrupted, nearly shouting. "This time isn't _any different_ than the others." I had to admit, it was incredibly strange to have The Joker listen in on this conversation. It felt silly, childish. But I didn't care. I was seething with rage at this point. "I don't want to see you anymore, Peter. Consider our relationship over."

The other line was utterly silent, while The Joker began to chuckle. "But…" Peter trailed off, sounding lifeless. We'd had this conversation before, of course. But those times, it had been me that was clinging desperately to whatever there was left of our relationship, praying, hoping that he would change; realize that I was right for him and devote himself to me. He hadn't. This time, I was letting go. I slammed my phone shut, throwing it onto the desk.

By now, The Joker was laughing loudly, clutching his stomach and pounding his fist on the desk. Hearing his laughter was like waking up from a dream; it brought me back to reality. I sat, frozen, barely breathing. The rage I felt just moments ago was completely overshadowed by chilling nervousness.

At last, his laughter stopped, followed by several low chuckles. "I liked that," He said, running his tongue across his lips. I wondered if I would ever get used to that. "Very entertaining." He clapped his hands together in praise of my actions. "So, you're single now, huh?" He asked. I felt my throat begin to close up. My words were meant to sound strong, forthright, but they came out weak.

"You heard me."

The Joker must've noticed how my voice wavered. "What? Are you afraid of something?" He questioned in mock concern.

"No." I muttered. His laughter filled the room again, a bright smile lighting his face.

"You know," He began, leaning so close I could feel the heat of his breath wash over my face. "I've always thought I needed a lady. How about this: you can be my queen of hearts." He offered, producing said card from his suit and sliding it to me across the debris covered desk. I picked up the card, frowning at it. "Not convinced?" He asked, watching me. "Well," He continued. "Let's go out some time, huh? Then I can show you how much fun I _really _am."

I gulped at his offer. What were you supposed to say when the city's most wanted psychopathic criminal asked you out?

"Thinking about it, are we?" The Joker interrupted my thoughts. I watched as he stood from his seat, walking over to me, switchblade open. "I _insist_ that I take you out. How about now?" He asked, pressing the dull edge of the blade against my neck. I could feel my eyes begin to water. I squeezed them shut, not wanting to show the fear bubbling up within me. Instead, I bit down hard on my lip, gnawing at it until I could (unintentionally) taste the blood.

The Joker saw. "Hmm, interesting habit." He acknowledged. He touched a finger to my cut lip, examining the blood. After a moment of silent thought, he pressed his finger to his hair, sliding it through the green strands, staining it with my blood. "Gives it a nice effect, doesn't it?" He questioned, pulling the blade away from my neck. I released a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding in. His gaze lingered on my mouth, though, which caused me to stand, ready to leave the room in favor of anywhere else, I didn't care where. I wiped the blood from my lips onto the back of my hand, holding it there until the blood stopped flowing.

"Glad to see you're so anxious for our little date!" He grinned, grasping my blood-stained hand. I struggled for a moment, trying to wrench my hand away from his tight grip, but was unsuccessful. He pulled me out of the room with him and down the stairs, causing me to trip. I thought my momentary clumsiness would slow him down, if only for a minute, but it didn't. 

Within seconds, we were outside. "Get in." He demanded, opening the door to one of the numerous trucks that surrounded Laffs-A-Lot. I stepped up quickly, gripping the sides of the truck for support as I entered.

"I wanna drive." The Joker said, both to himself and me, as he climbed into the truck, turning the keys. It took a few moments before the engine roared to life, causing me to gasp quietly. "This'll be a real eye-opener, Addie." He promised me. As he began to drive, all I was left with were thoughts of what his sick plans were for our "date".

* * *

**_Yes, another short one. Sorry! But the next one is in progress, and is quite a bit longer than this chapter!_**

_HarlequinEnigma_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

* * *

I'm not sure if I can accurately describe what I felt as we drove down the streets of Gotham in a huge semi-truck. One emotion that I could easily decipher was fear. My body was cold, frozen with it. So far, though I had been touched by The Joker many times, I hadn't been harmed, save for one slap across the face; hardly worth mentioning.

Along with the fear was a sense of nervousness. They were interconnected, of course, but the nerves were more prominent than the fear. I was unsettled, glancing about the familiar streets quickly, as though there was something that, in all my years of living here, I hadn't seen; something I was supposed to see.

Coupled together with both fear and nervousness was another strange emotion: curiosity. Though I knew I should be screaming and crying hysterically, I couldn't. First of all, because I knew that The Joker would enjoy that: seeing my pain, my inner conflicts. But also because my bizarre curiosity held those urges at bay.

"You know," The Joker began, interrupting my thoughts. His voice projected a sense of annoyance. "I haven't been on many dates lately, but I think you're supposed to talk, huh?" He prodded, tearing his eyes off the road to look at me for a moment.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, my voice wavering only a bit. He smacked his lips once, glancing at me sideways.

"Aren't you curious about what we're gonna do?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," I answered. Anyone would be. The Joker reached over, taking my hand.

"Then how about we start with drinks, hmm?" He asked, pointing, his hand still on the wheel, to the right. Before I had time to look, the truck turned sharply, causing me to crash into The Joker. "It's good to know you're so eager." He said, chuckling. The truck jerked to a stop, throwing me forward, causing my head to hit against the dashboard. A surge of temporary pain filled my head. I winced inwardly, clutching my forehead. If The Joker noticed, he ignored it. I watched as he stepped easily out of the truck, offering me his hand. I inhaled, placing my hand in his. His chivalry ended there. He pulled me down from the truck. I all but fell to the ground, standing quickly.

"Come on," He whispered harshly. His arm snaked around my waist. I jumped slightly. Several voices filled the air. My head spun around. My eyes narrowed, settling on four of The Joker's henchmen. They walked up behind us, guns in hand. One of them held a box with ribbon tied to it. I pulled my gaze away from the clowns, looking straight ahead.

In front of us stood a bar. The sign that once told its name was faded so that the words were indecipherable. Along with the truck, several cop cars were parked in the area. A female cop stood, leaning against her car. I watched as The Joker nodded sideways to his henchmen. The one carrying the box handed it over to her. "Give it to Michael Green." I heard him say. Police Lieutenant Green? I felt sweat begin to bead on my forehead. What was going to happen to the lieutenant?

The woman took it, casting a questioning look at me as she passed. I shot her a venomous glare. It disgusted me how many cops were actually working against the law.

"We'll go in the back way." The Joker directed. The clowns followed as we walked around the bar.

"What are you going to do to Lieutenant Green?" I asked quietly, unable to resist. He laughed, gripping my elbows and looking me in the eyes.

"I'm not doing anything to the lieutenant." He chuckled in what sounded like disbelief. "No, no, He's just a way to get what I want. What I'm doing is directed towards Gotham." He left off there, firing several shots at the door. He reached in, his hand gripping the doorknob and twisting it, opening the door. The clowns entered the bar, rushing in front of us. I stepped in, but was pulled back quickly. I gasped, struggling.

"Sorry, sweetheart," The Joker apologized as he tied my hands together behind my back. "I just have a little problem with leaving you free for now." He said, grasping my forearm. We walked through the back room, dodging various crates and bottles. I shut my eyes as The Joker cocked his pistol and fired a shot into the air, pushing me through another doorway. "Surprise!" He greeted. I opened my eyes, letting them fall on the horrified faces of those in the bar. The Joker stepped forward, pulling me with him.

"So," He began, taking a beer from the nearest person and raising it to his mouth. He tilted his head back, taking several swigs before setting it down. "Anyone wanna tell me where Michael Green is?" He questioned, licking his lips. The whole room fell silent. I watched as many people stood and left, leaving only The Joker, his clowns, and me, along with Lieutenant Green. I gazed at him with pity. He shook with obvious fear, though he tried to conceal it. "Happy birthday." The Joker congratulated. "We brought you a present."

One of the clowns set the box down in front of Lieutenant Green.

"Open it." The Joker commanded, aiming the pistol at his forehead. Green took in a deep breath; trying to calm himself, I was sure. He untied the ribbon, lifting the lid from the box.

"Oh my god," I breathed. Inside the box was a bomb, set to explode. My heart leapt into my throat, and my teeth dug into my lip.

The Joker glanced at me for a moment. "Breath-taking, isn't it?" He asked with a grin. He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning back to the lieutenant. "You know," He began, lifting a bottle of vodka from the bar. "I wouldn't have done this if you weren't so well informed." He reasoned, as though blowing someone up could be justified.

Lieutenant Green's eyes left The Joker's face, settling on mine. I could see the fear in his eyes, the knowledge that his life could end at any moment. I gave him a small smile, the best I could muster at the moment, to comfort him, if anything at all could be comforting in this sort of predicament.

"What are you doing with Addison Wayne?" He turned his attention back to The Joker, who laughed in response, draping an arm over my shoulder. The smile faded from my face, and I cringed slightly.

"Addie and I are just on a date." He answered casually. Green's eyes widened, horrified. "Is that all?" He questioned, gesturing to one of his henchmen. He approached, carrying a rope which he deftly tied around Lieutenant Green, fastening him to his bar stool.

"No," I breathed, clasping a hand over my mouth. If The Joker heard, he didn't acknowledge me. Laughter erupted from him as he raised the vodka above Lieutenant Green, pouring it over his head. He sputtered as the vodka ran down his face and over his clothes.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this," The Joker apologized teasingly, bending down so his gaze could meet the lieutenant's. "But it's better this way." He assured. My eyes wandered over to the timer. Only forty-five seconds until detonation. My breath came quickly as the panic set fully in on me.

The Joker looked over to me, then to the bomb in realization. His hand flew to my arm, gripping it tightly. I felt several tears spill over my eyes as I glanced back at Lieutenant Michael Green; terror, defeat, and resignation clear on his face. "I'm so sorry." I apologized, just loud enough for him to hear me. He gave a grim nod, causing me to swallow hard. He began to pray.

"Come on." The Joker hissed impatiently, dragging me with him as he ran out the door. We made it back to the truck just seconds before the bomb went off, destroying the building and everything within it in one fiery explosion. I inhaled sharply, my blood running ice cold, despite the heat from the flaming mess that the explosion had left. Just The Joker and me. We were the only ones that had made it out of the bar in time.

It took several seconds, but I collapsed to the ground, silent tears falling into the gravel. Lieutenant Green and four of The Joker's henchmen had died in a split second. How did I know that I wouldn't be condemned to the same sentence?

"Kill me quickly." I choked with a sob. If I was going to be killed by him, it may as well have been now.

"What?" The Joker asked, his face twisting with disbelief. "You think I want to kill you?" He continued with a laugh. "How could I ever kill you?"

"Four of your henchmen died with him. And you let them. Why should you care about keeping me alive?" I spat, looking up at him. He gave a sigh, bending down to untie me, then pulling me up.

"Listen to this, Addie, cause it's important." He began, looking at me for permission to continue. I nodded helplessly. He smacked his lips between pauses as he explained. "You see, nothing I do is ever totally random, but it's not exactly planned, either. I just have a general idea of who I'd like to torment and how I'd like to do it. Anything that happens along the way just... happens. And that's why those four men died. I didn't plan it, it just happened."

I dried my tears, sighing. His explanation seemed truthful. I folded my arms protectively across my chest, leaning against the truck.

"Look, I like you, doll face, so I'm gonna let you live." He started, putting his gun away. "And you're lucky that I trust you enough to even let you go."

"What?" I questioned, my eyes narrowing in confusion. I watched as he pulled out his switchblade, flipping it open. I inhaled sharply as he turned my left hand over and touched the blade lightly to my palm, tracing it from edge to edge in a long, but shallow cut. I winced, struggling to pull away. His grip shifted to my wrist, lifting my hand to his hair and, once again, smearing the blood into it.

"I trust you to keep your mouth shut." He finally answered, loosening his grip so quickly that it felt like my arm was being thrown down. He narrowed his eyes at me, licking his lips. "You can guess what'll happen if you don't."

I nodded in response, too shocked to speak.

"Oh, and that cut," He reminded. I looked down to see blood still flowing from the gash in my palm. "It'll help you remember me until we… get together again."

I bit my lip. Of course this wasn't it. By some strange twist of fate, he had become too interested in me and my reactions to leave me alone. "Fine." I responded without hesitation. "Looking forward to it." I said in a cold, sarcastic voice. I was unable to restrain the flash of the famed Wayne mockery. And why not? I was already displaying the famed Wayne emotionlesness. The Joker grinned widely.

"Good." He chuckled, closing the blade and putting it back into his pocket. He drew me into him, whispering in my ear: "See you later, beautiful."

I watched emotionlessly as The Joker climbed into the truck and drove away, leaving me alone as the fire continued to rage behind me. I cast one sorrow filled glance back at the mess. I swallowed hard, pressing my bleeding hand against the black dress that I had worn out two nights ago. With one sigh, I turned my back on the inferno, walking wearily into the night.

* * *

**_Thanks to those that reviewed! Your feedback was greatly appreciated._**

**_So, the readers of this story are quite lucky, as I've got a few more chapters written up, and am working on some. In other words, I should be posting daily for at least the next week. There might not even be a day when you have to go without a chapter._**

**_Reviews are always accepted!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

* * *

Waking up the next morning felt like waking up from a long, vivid dream. I awoke at eleven a.m., in my own room in my penthouse apartment; everything in its place, save for the heels that I'd kicked off and a stray box of chocolate chip cookies I'd devoured when I arrived home at midnight. Nothing else had been changed.

Nothing but me.

Somehow, instead of being a relief, going back to my normal life was a strange thing, almost a burden. I had been guarded when I was with The Joker, careful. It was an odd feeling, knowing that I didn't need to be so cautious, that it would make people wonder what had happened to me during those two days.

The first to ask, of course, had been Bruce.

"I tried reaching you at least thirty times, Addie." He'd said in a scolding tone. "Where were you?"

It took a few moments to formulate a believable answer when he'd asked me that (since I knew I couldn't reveal the truth), so I stalled by rolling my eyes and countering with a laugh: "Bruce, you disappeared for seven years without any word, and you're freaking out at me for being gone for two days?"

"Why shouldn't I be worried about my pretty younger cousin?" His voice had grown defensive, a frown on his lips. I'd sighed at that.

"Look," I'd begun, covering my face with my hand. "I just went on our boat; I needed to clear my head. I had no reception." I'd lied. And he believed me. Anyone would have, knowing how poorly things had been going for Peter and I. I'd felt guilty for lying to Bruce, though, and so I'd told him about Peter and I's break-up. He'd initially pitied me, but his pity turned to optimism; he assured me that I'd be much better off without him. I had to agree.

But thinking about the break-up never failed to remind me of what happened that night; being dubbed the "queen of hearts" by The Joker, being forced to go on a so-called "date", the look on Michael Green's face as he learned that he was going to die, the explosion, The Joker's explanation of how his crimes worked out, and, strangest of all, being released. I'd been prepared to die that night, but nothing could've prepared me for the shock that came from being set free.

That had been two and a half weeks ago. Since then, I'd begun working along Bruce at Wayne Enterprises.

"It only makes sense for you to help run the family business." He'd told me. I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to have a permanent job in helping run the family company, but Bruce had convinced me that I owed it to our family legacy to at least set foot in the building.

For now, life was normal. Everything had slowed, become routine.

I looked at the clock as I dressed for work. Ten thirteen a.m. I slipped into some pinstripe pants and a navy blue off-the-shoulder shirt. I stepped into a pair of black flats when my cell phone began to ring. I didn't greet the person on the other line. I knew what they would say.

"I'm parked out front, Miss Wayne."

"I'll be right down."

I grabbed my bag and threw my cell phone in it, walking out of my bedroom and pulling out my keys to the elevator. When I stepped in, I fit it into the keyhole and turned it, setting the elevator in motion.

It didn't take long for me to reach the main floor. I flashed a brief smile to the woman at the front desk before I walked out the door.

Standing beside a sleek black Volvo was Alfred Pennyworth.

"Morning, Miss Wayne." He greeted, smiling. I couldn't help but smile as well.

"Good morning, Alfred." I returned. He opened the back door for me, and I stepped in, plopping down on the leather seat. Alfred started the car and began driving.

This was how I'd had to get to and from everywhere I'd went. Bruce had insisted upon it, saying that he would rather drive his Lamborghini, anyways. I didn't know what had happened to my car, but I knew that it was in The Joker's possession.

The Joker. I bit down on my lip, turning my palm upwards and gazing at it. The cut I had been given had left a scar, the skin pink and puckered. I touched it, wincing as I did. I could almost feel the knife pressing into my hand, the pressure of The Joker's grip on my wrist.

"Are you alright?" I heard Alfred's voice. He must've heard my pained sound.

"Yes, I'm just fine." I assured him.

We pulled up beside Wayne Enterprises just moments later. I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Alfred moved to get out of the car, so that he could open my door, most likely.

"I've got it, Alfred." I said, pulling the door open free of any help. I waited for Alfred to promise to pick me up at six o'clock, like he always did, before slamming the car door shut and walking into the building. I breezed past the throng of people in the lobby, stepping straight into the elevator.

I waited for several moments as the elevator climbed to the top floor, finally stopping and opening. I turned several corners before I found myself at the one ridiculous thing that Bruce insisted upon giving me: an office.

I threw my bag down on my desk, sitting down at the swivel chair behind it. Several things were left on my desk each day: a coffee, any notices I'd received, and a list of what had to be done that day. I was put in charge of business calls that Bruce had used to be the one to make. Other than that, my "work" day was relatively empty.

My gaze shifted to my computer screen. An unfinished game of Solitaire was open on my desktop, as well as my homepage. As I browsed the webpage for anything interesting, I reached for my coffee, taking a sip. It was enough to make me want to spit it out. I hated my coffee black. But I swallowed regardless, chasing the taste away with a swig of water.

My eyes finally settled on a link: Is Addison Wayne single? I gave an aggravated sigh, clicking on it. It took me to a tabloid website with an article about Peter and I's break up. I drummed my fingers angrily on my desk as I read it, resentful to the people who wrote it. I didn't need my singleness to be advertised.

"Morning, Addie." A voice drew my attention away from the article. I looked up to see that Bruce had walked into my office.

"Morning, Bruce." I returned. He came forward, stopping at the edge of my desk. He raised an eyebrow at the cup of black coffee.

"You can have it." I told him. He chuckled once and nodded, lifting the coffee from my desk. He walked around it, standing behind me and gazing at my computer screen as well.

"Reading an article about your break up?" He asked, amused.

"Yes," I answered brusquely. "I wish people wouldn't advertise this stuff. I don't really want to deal with a bunch of guys-"

"But don't you have a date tonight?" Bruce questioned giving a small grin.

"Oh." I'd forgotten. "Yes."

It was three days ago that one of Peter's Italian modeling friends, Lorenzo Marchese, had begged me for a date. I'd been reluctant to agree, but he'd asked me so many times that I had finally given up.

"You're not going to date another model, are you?" Bruce inquired, obviously concerned. I shook my head in response.

The Phone began to ring. I looked up at Bruce, a signal for him to leave my office, as I had work to do. He patted me on the shoulder and left my office. I spun my chair around, picking up the phone.

"Hello, you've reached Wayne Enterprises, Addison speaking." I greeted. The other line was utterly silent. "Hello?" I greeted again. Still, no answer. I pulled the phone cautiously away from my ear, setting it back down on the receiver. That was strange.

Within seconds, the phone rang again. I narrowed my eyes, picking it up. "Hello, you've reached Wayne Enterpr-"  
"Nice to hear your voice, beautiful."

I stopped breathing.

"So, listen," The Joker began. I heard him smack his lips in the background. "I've got an idea. I think that we should get together again sometime."

What should I say to that? A wave of fear coursed through my body, temporarily paralyzing me. At last I was able to manage, "When?" I knew it was an odd response to give a psychopathic murderer that appeared to be stalking you, but I couldn't show any panic; if anyone suspected that the phone call was anything but a business call, they would try and investigate.

"That's for me to decide," He said. He exhaled into the phone. "But it'll be soon, I promise." He took a breath quickly before uttering one of his signature lines: "I'm a man of my word." With that, the other line went dead. I carefully placed the phone down on the receiver, paling slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed hard. Work. I had work to do. And I had a date tonight. I wouldn't let The Joker twist me enough to stop me from doing things I normally would. I exhaled, diving into my work, doing anything I could to block out the nerves that were building up within me.

* * *

Once I had buried myself in work, the day had gone by relatively quickly. I'd left Wayne Enterprises at six, after receiving a fifteen minute speech from Bruce about why I shouldn't go on a date. Fortunately, Bruce hadn't tried to stop me from going, just advised me against it.

I arrived back at my apartment at six thirty. Lorenzo had called and asked to pick me up at seven thirty. I was glad that it was a casual dinner date, because I knew I could leave directly when it was over. I'd changed quickly out of my work clothes and into jeans and a purple shirt, thankful for the comfort they provided.

Seven thirty approached quickly. I'd received a call from the front desk, alerting me that someone was here to pick me up. I sighed, putting on a quick coat of lip gloss before I went down to the lobby. There, grinning like an idiot, was Lorenzo. He was one of the several models that had wanted to go on a date with Peter's girlfriend for months. It was somewhat ridiculous how many people had been waiting for us to break up.

"Hello, Addison." He greeted in his rich Italian accent.

"Hi." I returned, plastering a false smile on my face. He held out his hand, and I took it, letting him lead me to his red Ferrari, opening the door for me. I stepped in, pitying him. He really was trying to be a gentleman. Too bad I wasn't interested.

The car ride was relatively silent, save for the bad music on the radio. It was a relief when we arrived at the restaurant. I was surprised to learn that we were going for Chinese food. Once we'd sat down at a table, I'd asked Lorenzo why he'd opted for Chinese. Twenty minutes later, I was wishing that I hadn't brought it up, and was seriously considering stabbing his hand with my fork. I hadn't bothered to listen to his whole explanation, because it had turned into a long monologue about how the "American" version of Italian food was an insult to his country. I was so thankful to the waitress when she came to take our order that I promised myself I'd give her a one-hundred dollar tip.

"So, how did you and Peter break up?"

I froze at the question. Thoughts that I had pushed away now appeared in my mind, demanding attention. The Joker had made a promise to find me, and I knew that he would follow through.

"Addison?" Lorenzo tried to attract my attention. The look of concern on his face only heightened my sudden burst of panic. My eyes met his; wide and slightly crazed. I needed to get home, now. Every minute I spent away from my apartment was a moment spent with the possibility of recapture.

"I… I have to go." I breathed hurriedly. I stood from the table, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder. Lorenzo stood as well, confused and hurt.

"Why?" He asked, reaching out to grab my arm. I pulled away too quickly, though, and instead he grasped the air.

"Nausea." I managed. Lorenzo believed me and nodded, apologizing. "I'll call you." I said, kicking myself afterwards for making a false promise. I walked quickly for the front door, only then remembering that there was a back way out. I wanted to be seen by as few people as possible. I turned around, running into the waitress on the way. "Here. Keep it." I said, stuffing a one-hundred dollar bill in her hand.

"Miss!" She called after me. But I didn't respond. I flung open the back door, the generic white of the walls throwing me off for a moment. My eyes traced the spiral of stairs in front of me. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, urging me forward. I started down the stairs, following the spiral for several flights until I reached the stairwell. I attempted to take a steadying breath, but my efforts were thwarted by the chilling touch of leather against my skin. Before I could protest, a guttural voice was whispering in my ear.

"Hello, doll face."

* * *

**_Another day, another update! I've recieved quite a few pm's and several reviews, so that's made me quite pleased. There's a lot going to happen within the next few chapters, so that's something to be excited about._**

**_Again, reviews and pm's are absolutely fine by me. I definitely don't bite... hard. ;)_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

* * *

So The Joker had found me anyways. "Let go of me." I hissed, struggling to pull away. My hand collided hard with his face, eliciting a loud exhale from him.

"Was that really necessary?" He asked, sounding slightly annoyed. I said nothing in response. He spun me around to face him. The sight of him was all too familiar; from his scraggly green hair to his purple suit, it was as though I'd never spent any time away from him. I realized with chilling shock that our outfits matched.

The Joker licked his lips before speaking again. "You know, that's cold, doll face." He began, pointing upwards, towards the restaurant, with his switchblade. His face contorted with disapproval. "Going out with another man? And I thought our first date went so well."

"Couldn't have gone better." I lied through clenched teeth.

"I'm so glad." He grinned, taking my hand in his. "Because, you see, that… uh, Lorenzo Marchese? He's not _nearly_ as photogenic as me." He informed me in a taunting voice.

"I know." I responded, managing a shaky smirk. I was less afraid than I should've been, though my heart was still pounding in my ears.

"And I was beginning to think you'd lost your mind." The Joker said with a chuckle, releasing me. "Good to see you have better taste than _that_." He was referring to Lorenzo, obviously.

There was a brief silence that passed between us. The dreamlike confidence that I had gained a few moments ago seemed to falter as I began to question his motives. "Why did you come for me?" I asked quietly, shrinking away a bit.

He let out a loud laugh. It was almost strange that no one heard it. "You didn't think I was lying, did you?" He questioned, the laughter still in his voice. "No, I wouldn't lie to _you._ Like I said, I'm a man of my word."

I took in a breath before asking the question that had been burning in my mind. "But why me? Out of everyone else in Gotham, why?" I inquired, sounding desperate. I watched as The Joker's expression changed to one of contemplation.

"Hmm…" He mused. It took several moments before the look on his face changed; he had an answer. He smacked his lips before speaking.

"Because the rest of Gotham? They're all just as predictable as everyone else; all of them pleading for their pathetic little lives." He stated, raising his eyebrows to back up his words, possibly waiting for me to defend the citizens of Gotham. I didn't. He continued: "With you, I can never tell whether you're going to slap me, scream, or smile. So, really, you interest me."

I bit my lip as I considered his response. I knew he was right. I had never once begged for my life, even when I was terrified. It had never felt like that was the right thing to do; if I begged for my life, it seemed more likely for him to kill me.

"You're flattered, huh?" He interrupted my thoughts. My eyes, clouded over with thought, met his. "Good. I've always been a… complimentary sort of man." He grinned, licking his lips. He looked at me, nodding several times as he acknowledged my understanding of his words. "Alright." He began. "Onto more important matters."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" I asked coldly, hiding my building nervousness.

He shot me a questioning look. "Our second date, remember?"

I gulped. "What about it?"

"Well, you see, I've got a fun idea." He started. "But it involves going back to my place." He informed, grabbing my left hand. I yanked my hand away, gasping at the pressure of his touch against the newly healed cut he'd given me.

"Oh…" He said comprehendingly. He reached for my hand again, flipping it upwards. "You never forgot me." He stated knowingly, running a gloved finger down the scar. "You thought about me every day, didn't you?"

He was right. There hadn't been a day gone by that memories of our first encounter didn't pass through my mind, thanks to that scar. It was as if the blade was pressing into my skin whenever I touched it.

The Joker chuckled. "You were pining for me, weren't you?" He asked.

"No, I wasn't." I spat. "I was wishing that you'd never given me this damn cut."

He chuckled at that. "You know what? You're a good liar, Addie." He complimented. "But I don't really like it when other people lie. That's for _me_ to do when I need to." He said, raising the switchblade the level of my eyes. I inhaled sharply, gripping the stair rail. His hand clenched on my shoulder, holding me in place.

"Ah, sh, sh, sh." He quieted, brushing a bit of hair from my face with his knife. I tensed as he lowered his lips to my neck, placing several fierce kisses on my skin.

The fear set back in completely at the touch of his lips against my neck. I couldn't comprehend the feeling of being so close to him. My heartbeat doubled, pounding so loudly that I was sure anyone within a mile of me could hear it. My mind was screaming with fear, begging me to run, do anything I possibly could to escape. But I stayed in place, frozen. I squeezed my eyes shut, digging my fingernails into my skin despite the scar, until he drew away from my neck.

"See?" He questioned, raising his eyebrows. "I can tell when someone's lying."

My ice-cold skin burned at his words. I opened my mouth to retort, but he covered it with his hand.

"Why don't we get out of here, huh?" He suggested, gripping my wrist and pushing open the door. There, in the alley-way, was my car. The Joker pulled the keys from his coat pocket, dangling them in front of me. I lifted my hand to take them, but he pulled them out of my reach. "You know that I like to be the one driving, doll face." He reminded me, his grip shifting to my upper arm as he walked me in front of the car, opening the door and shoving me into the passenger's seat. As he put the keys in the ignition and began to drive, it was almost like being sent back to that one night two and a half weeks ago; the night that had changed the course of my life.

* * *

**_Yes, another short one. But, hey, short is better than none! The next one should be up tomorrow. Perhaps, if I can write quickly enough, you might have two a day._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

* * *

I had to admit to feeling powerless as The Joker parked my car at the entrance to his hide-out. No one but me had _ever_ driven my car while I was in it, except for him. It made me feel weak, and reminded me how controlled I really was.

"We're home!" The Joker said excitedly, disengaging the child lock and exiting the car. I followed shortly after, slamming the door loudly in protest of my powerlessness. "The guys will be so glad you're back." He informed me, referring to his pig-like henchmen.

"I'll kill them," I mumbled to myself, folding my arms across my chest.

"No _that _sounds like fun." He quipped, opening the door and pushing me in front of him. The room was surprisingly empty; save for one snoring clown. I stood by the door as The Joker walked up to him, peering down at his mask. He reached down, pulling the mask away from the clown's face and letting it snap back down. The clown awoke with a start, holding the mask to his face, looking up at The Joker, no doubt.

"Why don't you get up and go snore somewhere else, huh?" He suggested, annoyance clear on his face. The clown only nodded, racing out of the room through a door. The Joker shook his head. "Some people," He sighed with mock disgust. I let the corners of my mouth pull up slightly in a grin, somewhat amused by the slapstick humor, hoping The Joker wouldn't see. He did. My smile began to fade as he walked back to me, tilting my head up with his finger.

"You know, beautiful," He started, licking his lips. "You really oughtta smile more."

I edged away a bit, afraid that he would pull his switchblade out. "I already know how you got your scars, Joker." I informed him, a hint of fire in my voice. He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as though he would explode. I bit my cheek as I waited. At last, his laughter died down, and he took several composing breaths, letting out light chuckles.

"Really?" He asked, licking his lips again. "Is it the one about the drunken father? Or is it the wife one?"

I unclenched my teeth from my cheek, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. "I've heard both." I shot back.

"Ah." The Joker said, recognizing the fact. "Aren't you curious to know if they're really true?" He questioned, pulling out his switchblade. I backed way, but he grabbed me by the shoulder, spinning me around so I was facing away from him and pulling me close so that my back was to his chest. His arm was crossed over my neck, holding onto my shoulder still. A chill ran through me as he raised the blade to the level of my face, holding it in front of me. I exhaled slowly, steadying myself. Yes, I was curious about the truth behind his scars, but the sight of the knife in front of my face practically erased that curiosity and replaced it with nervousness.

"You see, Addie," The Joker began, bending so that he spoke directly into my ear. "I was working for the mob in my old city. And the head of it was set on _ruining_ me. He destroyed my home, killed my best friend, and took all my money from me, all because I'd forgot to pay him back for a favor. And so, I decided that I could learn a thing or two from him. See, I had an epiphany. I realized how funny life _really_ was. So, one night, he calls me in for a job, and I bring my knife. I wanted to show him that even though I had nothing, I was happier than ever. So I take the blade, stick it in my mouth, and carve this smile on my face. He tells me I've gone crazy, and he goes for his gun. But before he can reach it, I throw my knife at him, and it stabs him in the head. _That's_ when my life really took a turn for the better."

He explained, ending his monologue. I watched, frozen, as he lowered the knife from my face to my neck, pressing the blade carefully to my skin.

"So, which one do you think it is?" He questioned, obviously referring to the three stories that he'd told about his scars. I didn't respond, as all of them, though sickening, sounded plausible. He spun me around to face him, searching for an answer in my expression.

"I don't know," I told him, saving him the trouble of trying to find the nonexistent answer he was looking for. "Why don't you tell me?" I asked, trying to sound as demanding as I could at the moment.

"I'm a man of mystery, sweetheart. I can't have the truth messing with that." He informed me, sliding the switchblade lightly down the skin at the bottom of my neck to below my collar bone; drawing a stream of blood. My body, rigid as he cut my skin, now sprung into life, enabling me to pull away from him. I pressed two fingers to the wound, hoping the pressure would slow the bleeding.

"Give me five minutes." I demanded. The Joker chuckled and considered it.

"Just one second," He muttered, taking hold of my arm. I turned my head away as he touched the knife to my skin again, mirroring the cut he'd made before. Gazing back at him, I saw that his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he worked. "And… done!" He exclaimed, pleased with himself. He closed the blade, putting it back in its proper place. "_Just_ five minutes." He commanded, roughly releasing me.

It took several backwards steps, my eyes still narrowed on him, to regain enough composure to turn and run up the stairs. I ran quickly into the bathroom, turning on the dim, greenish light and looking at myself in the cracked mirror. Blood was trickling down my body, staining my shirt. I stretched the fingers on my left hand, touching my thumb and my middle finger to the gashes. I took in a fast and shaky breath, lifting my arms and removing my shirt. The blood had oozed down my torso, staining my pale skin. I grabbed several wadded up pieces of toilet paper, wetting them and dabbing at the wounds, cleaning them to the best of my ability.

"Oh god," I breathed to myself as I pulled the damp tissues away, uneasy at the sight of so much of my blood on them. I turned around, throwing them away before opening the cabinet above the trash can. There was nothing in it, save for shaving cream and an empty bottle of some unnamed poison. I sighed frantically, turning back to the sink and opening one of the drawers beneath it. Along with several make-up items, a crusty tube of toothpaste, and a broken brush, there were two bandages. I shut my eyes for a moment in silent appreciation, pulling them from the drawer and ripping open the wrapping. I hastily placed them over the cuts, glad to be relieved of the blood that had been dripping down my skin.

I had finished just in time, because, a second later, there was a knock on the door. I quickly bent down, throwing my shirt over my torso again. I walked over to the door, opening it. The Joker was silent for a moment, eyeing my blood soaked shirt with interest. His eyes stopped at my shoulder, and he gave a laugh.

"What?" I asked, looking at the floor. He laughed again, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. He pulled his hand away from my chin.

"See, I had a hunch that your bra was red." He informed me. I bit my lip as his hand traveled to my bra-strap, slipping a finger underneath it and using it to pull me forward. "And I was right.

"Satisfied?" I questioned in a hiss.

He gave a chuckle. "Really, baby, you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside." He told me, running a gloved hand down my cheek. He leaned forward so our faces were inches apart. "Daddy likes it."

My eyes narrowed and I pushed past him, beginning to walk to the room I had stayed in last time, hoping that there was a lock on the door. I wasn't quick enough, though, because seconds later The Joker's hands were clenched on my shoulders, and I was slammed up against the wall.

"Don't think you're going to bed without a goodnight kiss, beautiful." He said in a scolding tone. I gulped, frozen. Within seconds his lips touched mine with surprising force. I drew back, but he threaded his gloved hands tightly through my hair, pulling me too close for escape. I used my arms as a barrier between his chest and mine, ensuring that there was _some_ space between us. Of course, The Joker didn't like that. He untangled a hand from my hair, wrapping an arm around my back, crushing me to him. His lips pressed even harder against mine, were that even possible. I could feel his make-up smudging onto my lips and skin, staining them bright red.

At last, he drew back, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He must've found what he was looking for, because a smug smile lit his face. "That good, huh?" He asked, pleased with himself. "I never knew I could have such an effect on you."

"I guess you do." I mumbled, suddenly weary; no longer in the mood to fight.

"Good." He began, untangling the hand that remained in my hair and placing it on the back of my neck. "That means that we'll have a good time on our date tomorrow." He assured me. My brows knit together.

"Who are we blowing up this time?" I questioned quietly, but with venom. He laughed loudly, chuckling for a few moments afterwards.

"We're not _blowing_ anyone up this time." He said, smacking his lips together. "But I guarantee that it'll be more fun than our last date."

**_I apologize for not posting this yesterday! The lame excuse is, I was fooling around all day. I know. Not a good excuse at all, but at least you have it now! I promise to have chapter ten up within the next twenty-four or so hours. _**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

* * *

I awoke to the utter darkness of the same room that I had stayed in the last time. Of course. There were no windows. I stretched, standing up and stumbling blindly around the room, searching for the light switch. I was glad that little filled the room at this point; I probably would've broken anything in my path.

I pressed my hand to the wall, running it over the chipping white paint. At last, my hand had located the switch, turning it on. The light flickered on, dim and greenish. Everything became visible; everything meaning the mattress I had slept on, the faded rug, and my shoes. I bent down, slipping them onto my feet. It was a relief to have some protection from the chill of the cement against my skin.

For a few moments, I considered what I should do. I could stay in the room I was in and wait. I knew that The Joker would come for me no matter where I was, though, and my stomach was painfully empty. With a somewhat shaky sigh, I opened the door, closing it carefully behind me. There was no one in the hallway, thankfully, and the door to The Joker's office was closed. I was tempted to let out a breath of relief, but chose not to, as I wanted to remain as quiet as possible.

That was difficult to do, though, as I walked down the metal stairs. I took slow steps, my speed decreasing the sound of the clanking. At last, I reached the bottom of the stairs. There were, surprisingly, no henchmen in the front room. I made my way into the kitchen. The same dim light filled the room, illuminating the mess before me.

The counters were covered with some sort of peeling, blood-stained vinyl. Some food crumbs were scattered across the counters and the filthy floor. The sink was covered in water spots and filled with dirty and broken dishes. The refrigerator was stained as well. I opened the door, gazing into it. In it was a pack of beers, the remaining half of a chocolate cake, old lunch meat, and several brown bananas. With a sigh, I closed the door, turning to the pantry, which was almost as sparsely filled. It in it was an open bag of cheetoes, a nearly empty box of popcorn bags, containers of flour and sugar, and several potatoes. Wonderful. There was practically nothing to eat, and my stomach was eating itself.

I decided that the cake looked the most promising, as part of it had already been eaten, most likely by The Joker. It was the same cake that I'd seen on his desk the first time I was here. I walked over to the fridge again, opening it and pulling the cake out. I opened several drawers, finding only one clean fork. I used it to slice a chunk of cake off, transferring it to a semi-clean plate. I didn't care at this point how sanitary the kitchenware was; I was too hungry. Without a second's delay, I dug into the cake, chewing quickly and swallowing. I groaned after my first bite; I'd almost forgotten the taste of food.

"Do you like it?" A voice asked from behind me. Almost immediately, my appetite diminished. I set the plate down as The Joker walked in front of me, leaning against the counter. His tongue flicked across his lips before he spoke again. "I've never been much of a cook, but this, _this_ is an old… family recipe." He informed me.

"You want something." I said, edging away slightly. He gave a small chuckle.

"Last night we talked about our second _date_, remember?" He questioned, quirking an eyebrow. The question completely purged me of my appetite.

"Yes." I managed, clutching my stomach; not from hunger pains, but in shock from the wave of numbing fear that shot through me. A date with The Joker meant sealing the fate of one, if not more, of Gotham's citizens.

"Good." The Joker began, clapping his hands together once. He turned away from me, reaching an arm over to another counter, lifting a magazine from it. I waited silently as he flipped through the pages. "Ah." He murmured when he reached his desired page. He slammed the magazine onto the counter, causing my plate to lurch forward. "Here."

I let my gaze drop to the pages that he had opened to, my eyes widening. My heart sunk into my hollow stomach, causing me to place a hand lightly to my chest, gasping. Covering the upper half of two pages were two both a picture of me and a picture of my ex-boyfriend, Peter. The Joker had drawn over his face, painting black rings around his eyes and a jagged red smile over his lips. By contrast, several hearts were drawn around me. And yet the word "HA" had been scattered everywhere across the two pages.

"So, I was thinking we could start by meeting up with your ex-boyfriend, hmm?" The Joker suggested. It took several breaths before I could properly speak.

"Who knows about this?" I asked, my eyes meeting his, burning with anger and panic.

"Don't worry, doll face." He comforted in a mocking tone. "It's just you, me, Commissioner Gordon, and Peter, here."

I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing my rage and becoming temporarily emotionless. "And what do I have to do with this?"

"Well, see, this is the fun part." The Joker started, smacking his lips. "It seems that Peter isn't willing to believe that there's really a threat against his life." He informed me, pausing to see if I was following him. I gave one solemn nod, inviting him to continue. "So, I want you to go talk to him. The man has a right to know the truth."

My teeth dug into my cheek momentarily, biting down hard before I allowed myself to speak again. "But Jim Gordon knows about… whatever it is you've planned." I reminded him in a quiet voice. My eyes narrowed as he gave a laugh, patting me on the cheek.

"I think you'll make an excellent little actress, beautiful." He laughed. I tensed as he reached his hand into my front pocket, taking hold of my cell phone. He let his hand remain in my pocket for several seconds, his touch chilling, even through my jeans. He pulled the phone from its place, tossing it lightly in the air and catching it. I stood, motionless, as he dialed a number. He pressed the send button, handing the phone to me. My heart was pounding in my ears, distorting the world around me. A voice broke through the confusion.

"Hello?" They asked, distressed. Jim Gordon. I could hear the shuffling of papers on a desk as well as the faint sound of him sipping something; most likely coffee.

"Commissioner Gordon?" I inquired, my voice strangled and weak. I inhaled sharply as I felt the dull edge of a blade press against my neck.

"Tell him who you are, sweetheart." The Joker whispered in my ear.

"This is Addison Wayne." I continued. The sound of paper shuffling had stopped completely.

"Miss Wayne, thank god you've called!" His voice was filled with relief, and yet, at the same time, frustration. "I'm sure you've heard about the death threats against Peter Benson?" He probed.

"Yes, I have." My voice grew slightly in volume. I couldn't sound too weak, otherwise Commissioner Gordon might've suspected my whereabouts. "That's why I'm calling you."

"Well," He began, giving an exasperated sigh. "We think that The Joker might've taken a special interest in you, too, Miss Wayne." He told me. I could almost picture him at that moment; standing at his desk, coffee cup in hand, anxiety and frustration clear on his face.

"And how do you know?" I questioned carefully. Had someone discovered The Joker's kidnappings of me?

"He sent us a magazine." He began. I wanted to turn around and ask The Joker what had been accomplished so far of his plan, but the blade pressed harder against my neck, demanding that I keep up whatever charade I had put on. The Commissioner continued: "There were a bunch of bleeding hearts drawn around a picture of you."

So The Joker had sent them the same magazine that he had showed me. "Oh." Was all I could think to say in my slightly distressed voice. I heard The Joker chuckle behind me. While he still held the blade to my throat, I couldn't help but dig my teeth into my lips as he bent down, touching his tongue to my neck, sliding it once across my skin.

"Miss Wayne, I think it would be best if you left the city with someone you trust. Things could get ugly." Commissioner Gordon advised.

"Tell him that you're going to see Peter." The Joker whispered against my skin.

"I-I…" I stuttered, distracted. It was only the pressure of the knife that urged me on. "I'm going to leave Gotham with Peter." I lied, hoping that it might help avert police intervention. Though guilt filled me to the brim, I didn't want to tell _anyone_ everything that had happened when I was with The Joker, especially the cops.

"Are you sure that's a good plan?" Gordon questioned, doubt clear in his voice.

"Commissioner Gordon," I began, turning my neck slightly away from the knife. "It'll offer him more protection than anything we could do here. This is _The Joker_." I stressed, eliciting a giggle from The Joker.

There was a moment of silence on the other line. At last, I heard a defeated sigh. "Fine, but I want you both to be leaving Gotham within the next hour." He commanded.

"Of course." I promised, my voice faltering as The Joker wrapped an arm around my stomach, nearly cutting off my air. I was about to hang up, when Gordon offered one more thought.

"If anything should happen, I want you to call me, alright?" He questioned in a deeply pleading voice. I was ashamed at my own malice as I promised to call him if the need be, which of course there would. My goodbye was barely a whisper. Perhaps there was a way, _some_ way, that I could convince The Joker to leave Peter alive.

At last, The Joker pulled the blade away from my throat. I exhaled shakily in relief, putting my phone back into my pocket. I my eyes followed him as he stepped in front of me; switchblade still open. "You really are a terrific little actress, doll face." He began, pointing at me with the knife. " I couldn't have done it better myself." He complimented, smacking his lips.

"Lies." I whispered under my breath. The Joker gave me a sideways glance at that, obviously having heard.

"You know, I was actually being _serious_ about that, Addie." He told me with a mocking smile. "And I expect you to do as good of a job with your little ex."

The Joker reached into his pocket, pulling something out. My keys. He grasped my hand, turning it over and dropping my keys into it.

"Go get 'im, sweetheart."

* * *

**_I would like to apologize hugely for the delay in updates. I have been rather busy, but I'll spare you the details. Only know that I will update without fail within the next twenty-four hours._**

**_Reviews always appreciated!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

* * *

The streets of Gotham were almost terrifying as I drove down them, this being my first time driving in almost three weeks, not to mention, at night (which had come to mean different things to me than it had before). And yet, that wasn't what truly terrified me. What frightened me the most, heightened my senses and made me react to almost everything, was knowing that I was participating in a murdering plot. Unlike with Lieutenant Green's assassination, I wasn't just a helpless on-looker of the petrifying scene before me. Whether or not I took part in any other aspect of this murder, I had already helped set it up; thus having casted myself in the unwanted roles of both actress and bait. I shook with remorse, fear, and guilt; but, if I could, I had to get Peter to leave the city.

My heart beat at an incredible pace, drawing my attention to the cause of my dread. I had no idea how The Joker would react to my trying to help Peter. Would he kill me? Something in me doubted that he would, yet at the same time feared what he would do if he let me live. It was almost ironic that I had been given a much wanted moment alone, and the only possible way I could spend it worrying about the consequences of what I was about to do.

I steered my car through the busy downtown streets, taking a turn to avoid the traffic, turning onto a road that would take me uptown. I drove past a row of expensive townhouses, in search of only one. Several cars were parked along the street side. Mine joined them as I parallel parked, turning the keys and stopping my car. I exhaled loudly, resting my head against the steering wheel. My blood had run cold minutes ago, and my mind now carried the weight of indecision. Should I even have been here? If I wanted, I could've left, gone away and even have taken Bruce with me. I could have told him everything, and he would have known what to say to set me at ease.

But some strange, twisted part of me refused to do that. It told me that I couldn't leave, that I would hate every moment of my self-inflicted exile from Gotham. I was almost horrified at this strange side of me, but my logical side jumped in, reminding me that if I left Gotham now, it would only be worse for me later. I knew that no matter where I escaped to, I couldn't leave Gotham behind forever; and, regardless of where I went, The Joker could always find me, if indeed he wanted to.

Resigning myself to my task, I removed my head from the steering wheel, stepping out of the car and locking it. I stuffed the keys into my pocket, wondering how I would look to any random person who saw me, as my purple shirt was stained with last night's blood and my eyes were wild with hundreds of different emotions and thoughts.

I walked up to the steps of a townhouse, knocking on the door. I waited several moments before I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip as I reached into my pocket. I opened my eyes, fumbling around for the key to Peter's house. I flipped through the ring of keys, but found nothing. Of course not. It was gone, and it was obvious (painfully so) who had taken it.

Again, I knocked at the door, this time furiously. It took mere seconds for the door to swing open, revealing what appeared to be a vapid, eighteen-year-old woman with obviously dyed platinum blonde hair. Why did this not surprise me? Sure, Peter and I had broken up, but how many women could fall for this one man without caring about his duplicity?

"Addison Way-" The girl began in a questioning voice, a French accent clear in her voice. But I brushed past her, not waiting for her to finish.

"Who is it, Marguerite?" I heard Peter's voice coming from his living room. I turned several corners, entering the room. I heard Peter give an annoyed sigh. "What do yo-" He cut off, his eyes widening at the sight of me. Marguerite stood next to me, a frown on her face.

"Peter," She started, walking towards him. He raised a hand, and she froze.

"Leave, Marguerite." He ordered. She gave me a venomous glare before turning and running out of the room. I heard the front door slam shut, leaving Peter and I alone. Within seconds I felt Peter's arms around my waist, attempting to pull me into an embrace. I retaliated, pushing his body away from mine. Peter's expression grew confused.

"That's not what I'm here for, Peter." I hissed, backing away several inches.

"Then what are you here for?" He questioned, beginning to study me. His eyes widened as his gaze dropped to my torso. "Addie, you've got blood all over your shirt."

"I know that."

"But why?"

I gave a hurried sigh, shaking my head at him. "That's not important. What _is_ important is your life, Peter." I told him. Immediately, he burst out in laughter. The sound of his laughter, of _anyone's_ laughter other than The Joker's, had become almost foreign to me.

"You're not here to talk to me about the whole 'Joker trying to kill me' thing, are you?" He asked, his laughter continuing.

"Yes, I am," I retorted, grabbing his face in my hand, making him look directly at me. "Peter, this isn't a joke to you like it is to _him_." I emphasized, releasing his face,

"He only kills people involved with law enforcement." Peter said matter-of-factually.

"But you don't know him, Peter!" I declared loudly. Again, I heard his laughter.

"And you do?"

"Yes, I do." I informed him. My mind screamed at me for revealing that I knew The Joker, saying that Peter could use it against me, perhaps even inform the police. But I didn't care right now. If it was what I had to do to get Peter out of Gotham, then, due to my guilt, it had to be done.

"Addie, have you gone crazy?" Peter asked, disbelief on his face. "I'm fine, no one would try to ki-"

I lost my patience, slapping him hard across the face. "Peter, you need to _leave_ Gotham if you're going to live!" I spat. "And I'm risking _my_ ass to try and save you!"

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, I heard him sigh. "You know, you're acting just like Commissioner Gordon."

I gave a cry of frustration at that, my hand colliding with his face again. "Why won't you believe me, Peter?" I questioned angrily. "The Joker _will kill you_!

"I want to know why _you're _here telling me this and not the police!" Peter barked, gesturing towards me.

"The Joker wanted me to _make sure_ you understood that you're not safe here!" I snarled. "I didn't have to tell you to leave, Peter. After all you've done to me, you're damn lucky that I'm even trying to help you!"

"Where did the blood on your shirt come from?" He questioned, ignoring me. I exhaled loudly, ripping a bandage off of one of the cuts on my neck.

"This," I said wildly, allowing him to gaze at the cut. I pointed to the other one, leaving the bandage on. "And this. From The Joker." I told him. His eyes widened. He stepped forward, reaching his hand out, possibly to touch the wound. I slapped his hand away, placing the bandage back on the gash.

"And _he_ did that to you?" Peter asked quietly, his eyes not moving from the bandages.

"Would I do this to myself?" I yelled, grabbing Peter by the shirt. "Get. Out. _Now._" I growled between clenched teeth.

"Addie," Peter began, aggravated, though his voice wavered. "The Joker's not here, and he's not going to be here."

"That's where you're wrong, Petey." I heard a voice from behind me. I looked first to Peter's face; his expression now changed to one of disbelieving terror. I felt a hand on my neck, pulling me backwards until I was standing directly next to him; The Joker.

The Joker unclasped his hand from my neck, offering a sardonic grin. I heard Peter breathe: "Oh my god."

"Nice to meet you." The Joker greeted, offering his hand. Peter stared at it stupidly, backing away. "No?" The Joker asked, stepping forward. "You know," He began, flicking his tongue across his lips. "I really was trying to play it fair this time."

"W-What?" Peter questioned, his voice breaking. The Joker reached back, his hand grabbing my wrist.

"Come on." He hissed, pulling me forward. I felt the barrel of a gun press against my temple, causing me to shut my eyes and swallow hard. The gun was cold against my skin, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, but I wasn't as afraid as any normal person would've been. The Joker and I had played this game too many times for me to believe he would kill me. Now, at least.

At last, I opened my eyes. Peter stood, cowering, his eyes darting from me to The Joker. "I sent Addie here to make sure you understood what was gonna happen." He informed Peter, pulling the gun away from my head. "But you just couldn't believe her, could you?" He questioned, disapproval on his face. "I didn't think you were _that_ narcissistic."

"It didn't make sense!" Peter cried, sweat coating his skin. "I didn't think Addie would've known you!"

The Joker gave a loud, scornful laugh. I watched, nervous and shameful, as the two of them conversed. His laughter finally stopped, leaving him gasping for air. He caught his breath before speaking again.

"You know, Petey," He started, pointing at me. "It's no wonder you didn't want to lose her. She's a feisty little doll, isn't she?" He raised his eyebrows, emphasizing his words. Peter looked to me, his eyes narrowed with hurt and confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asked stupidly. I heard The Joker sigh.

"It means that Addie and I are _involved_." He said, drawing out the last word. I felt my body tense at his words. His implication was horrific, and yet I was unafraid; tensing only at the sight of Peter and his shock at the statement.

"Since when?" I questioned in a growl.

"Second date, fifth date; doesn't matter. How many have we been on?" He inquired, looking to me for an answer. I bit my cheek, saying nothing. He waved a hand dismissively. "They're all the same." He concluded, taking a slow step forward. Peter moved backwards, tripping over his own feet. The Joker gave a laugh, cocking the pistol and firing a shot into Peter's leg, immobilizing him. I let out a loud gasp, falling to the floor with my hand over my mouth. Peter gave a cry of agony, falling into a chair. "That's ok," The Joker said, a mockingly sympathetic look on his face. "You can take a seat."

Watching the two of them interact had caused me to lose control on all of my thoughts. My mind shrieked at me, begging me to stand, to help Peter; not because of any emotional attachment, but because it was moral, right. And yet it took everything I had within me to stand from my place on the floor and propel myself forward, just as The Joker drew out his knife.

"You can't!" I spat, my hand clenching onto his wrist. My strength was lacking compared to his, but it was enough to hold his arm in place.

The Joker chuckled as he questioned me: "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because it's what right!" I cried. His eyes met mine, his gaze filled with contradiction.

"Addie," He began, his voice sneering. "You don't care about what's right. If you did, you wouldn't have cooperated so well with all of my… plans, huh?" He enlightened me. My grip loosened, and I fell, roughly, to the ground. I pulled legs to my chest, drawing myself away from the truth. The Joker was right. I had been living with no rules but my own, no consideration for others; nothing but what I had subconsciously deemed important and acceptable.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" I heard The Joker ask. I squeezed my eyes shut as he began to tell Peter about how his drunkard of a father had given him the Glasgow smile that spread across his face. My eyes opened as he finished his story; not knowing if Peter was still alive or not. He was. His eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, and The Joker's switchblade was against the edge of his lips. "Why so serious?" The Joker asked him, a loud, chilling laugh following the question. I looked away as Peter gave his first shriek of pain; The Joker had begun his work.

Hearing Peter's screams and pleas was a far cry from Lieutenant Green's silent acceptance, and not one that made watching a murder any easier. My eyes were wet with unspilled tears, blessedly distorting my vision and burning my eyes so the scene before me grew hazy; dreamlike.

At last, Peter uttered a final cry, his breathing heavy and slow. "Now you'll always be smiling." The Joker said with a grin. Within seconds, I saw the blade plunging into Peter's chest, claiming his life without any intention of giving it back.

Silence filled the room as The Joker smeared the blood from his knife into his hair. I gripped the edge of a coffee table, heaving myself upwards with any energy I had left. The Joker's attention flashed to me as soon as I was on my feet. I stood my ground as he approached me, knife still in his hand.

"We need to have a little chat, Addie." He informed me, grabbing my arm. I struggled to free myself, needing nothing more than a moment of thought; some time to remove myself from the crazed state of mind that I was in. But I didn't have the will to escape as The Joker dragged me from Peter's house, shoving me into the backseat of my car and pulling the keys from my pocket. It was only as he had begun to drive that my body grew numb, allowing the tears to flow freely from my eyes; not because of the loss of a person that I had been close to, but at the realization of what I was becoming; what I could hardly stop myself from becoming. And now it was too late to turn back.

* * *

**_There. It's up, just like I promised. The next few chapters are underway, and the next one should be up at some point tomorrow._**

**_Reviews are always nice! Good, bad, I don't care. Any form of feedback is a good thing._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

* * *

I could hardly remember what happened on the way to Laff's-A-Lot; my vision had been blurred by my tears, and I had heard nothing but the occasional murmuring of The Joker to himself. It could've been hours, minutes, seconds before we reached his hide-out; I wouldn't have known. Time had stopped for me, leaving me with millions of thoughts plaguing my mind and an overwhelming sense of guilt welling up in my stomach.

It was only when my car had been parked that I awoke from my stupor-like state. The first thing I felt was a hard tug on my hair, The Joker pulling me from the car. I gave a small cry at the shock of the pain, clenching onto the hand that held my hair. I lost grip as the hand transferred to my wrist, yanking me forward and through the door.

"Let go of me." I hissed, wrenching my arm away. Our eyes locked for a moment, a smile on his face, before I turned and fled to my make-shift room; the only place that I could escape to. I locked the door, pressing my back to the wall and sliding down to the floor. I covered my face with my hands, inhaling deeply. Things had changed now; now that The Joker had gotten me involved in a crime. It would become harder for me to hide things from Bruce and from the police. I had told Jim Gordon that I would leave town with Peter; that he would escape safely. With Peter dead and me missing, the police might begin to suspect my involvement with The Joker.

But that worry, though entirely pertinent to me, seemed distant compared to thoughts that The Joker's words had induced. My teeth clenched down on my lips as I recalled his statement: that right and wrong was unimportant to me. Though it chilled me, I knew he was right. I hadn't forgotten about the moral code that others lived by, but I had twisted it; fit it to suit my needs and desires.

As for the murder, I was horrified at myself for my feelings towards it. Tears had flowed from my eyes, and yet they weren't a product of loss; I wasn't crying because I loved Peter, because I was heartbroken to see him go. No, no. I was crying because I knew that I didn't care. It was a monstrous thing to admit, but it was true.

Amidst my thoughts, the door sprung open, slamming into the wall. I jumped up, drying my eyes, gathering myself.

"Addie." The Joker said my name in a congenial tone. My back towards him, I glanced over my shoulder. He wasn't wearing his full suit; only his shirt, waist-coat, and trousers.

"What?" I snapped, my eyes burning into his. He ignored my death glare, obviously unaffected by it. He took several steps forward, pushing his hair back.

"I think we need to have a little… chat, hmm?" He asked. I felt his ungloved hand clutch the base of my shoulder, turning me to face him.

"About what?" I questioned, my voice cold, but softer than before.

"I think there's something I oughtta make clear do you, doll face." The Joker began, flicking his tongue across his lips. I didn't respond; merely looked him in the eyes, inviting him to continue. "I didn't kill Peter Benson because of you."

My eyes narrowed at that. I gave a disbelieving chuckle. "You didn't do it so I would feel responsible?" I prodded.

" No, no, you being totally free of him is just a little bonus." He assured me, raising his eyebrows. "I just needed to prove to Gotham that I have no plans. They expect me to publicly announce only the murders of those involved in criminal prosecution, or public figures. But really, it's not only them. Your ex-boyfriend was just a good way for me to remind the public that I don't scheme." He explained.

"And you couldn't have killed another model?"

The Joker paused for a moment. He smacked his lips before speaking again. "Look, Addie. I don't think we're on the same page here." He said, sounding positively irritated.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice wavering slightly. I released a small gasp as I saw him reach into the pocket of his pants and pull out a gun.

"Maybe I should just show you, huh?" He suggested, aiming the gun at my head. "Take your shirt off." He instructed. My eyes widened at his command.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb, sweetheart." The Joker growled. "Just do it."

My gaze was locked temporarily on the gun. I swallowed hard before locking eyes with The Joker, pulling my shirt up over my head and throwing it furiously to the floor. "There." I hissed. "Satisfied?"

"Not yet," He answered roughly, grasping my wrist and throwing me onto the mattress, forcing me to lie on my stomach. He bent down, kneeling over me. I felt him unclasp my bra, leaving my back entirely bare. I was about to protest, but the glint of a knife silenced me, causing me to fold my arms under my chin and rest my head on them, shutting my eyes tightly.

"I don't think I've gotten a chance to show you my more... _artistic_ abilities." He said into my ear. The Joker waited for a response, but I gave none. "No?" He gave me another chance to answer. "Let's get on with it, shall we?"

I had no idea what he was going to do, but I knew that it wouldn't be good. "Go ahead." I snarled, opening my eyes and turning my head to gaze back at him for a moment. He gave a smile before pressing the blade to my back. I inhaled sharply, biting down on my lip as he dug into my skin, beginning to carve some sort of pattern.

Again, my eyes were wet with tears, several of them spilling over onto my cheeks. But I refused to sob, biting my lip hard so as not to make a sound.

"Too strong to let me hear you cry, huh?" He asked, leaning forward to touch my face, lifting the knife from my back. I could feel blood trickling down my back, hot against my skin. The blade pressed down again; sharp, stinging. My body cried for an end to the pain, but the pressure of my teeth kept my lips shut.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm almost done." He promised in a guttural voice. My bite transferred to my cheek as the blade dug into my skin once more, causing me to release a shaky breath and a groan. After quickly slashing under whatever it was he had done, The Joker had completed the carving of the pattern that now covered a large portion of my back.

"Ta-da!" His excitement announced that he was finished. He reclasped my bra before standing from his kneeling position, pulling me up with him. "Follow me." He commanded, giving me a look of warning. I gave a slow, cold nod, stepping out of the room with him. He led me by the crook of my arm into the bathroom. The lights flickered on, illuminating the room.

"Come 'ere." The Joker ordered, pulling me in front of the sink. The mirror was too cracked for me to accurately tell what the wound on my back formed, a fact which bothered me greatly. But before I had time to angle myself so I _could_ see it, The Joker was already wrapping a bandage around my torso, covering the pattern he had engraved into my skin. Within a moment he was done, giving the bandage a rough slap to ensure that it stuck to my skin. But, despite the comfort that came from having the gashes covered, I couldn't stop myself from asking one question:

"Why?"

The Joker gave a sigh at the question, smacking his lips loudly. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that you're mine." He answered, pausing before adding: "Now anyone who sees it will know how… connected we truly are."

He was right. Regardless of what the markings on my back were, I knew that they pertained directly to him. Anyone that ever saw my back would now be able to uncover my secrets, with just a single glance.

"Look," The Joker interrupted my thoughts, gazing at me carefully. "I don't want there to be any hard feelings about this." He said, mock regret and concern washing over his face.

"None whatsoever." I spat, trying to push past him and into the hallway. I couldn't. The Joker grasped my shoulders, wrenching me directly against him. Before I could pull away, The Joker pressed his mouth hard to mine. I struggled against him, but he held me at bay, cradling my head roughly in one of his hands while the other held me to him, causing my wounds to sting from the pressure.

At first my lips didn't move, controlled at this point by my mind. But my traitorous body had different plans, and, despite the fact that he had just mutilated my back, I began to kiss him, hesitantly, in return. He was pleased with that, moaning deeply. I gasped as his tongue pushed past my lips and into my mouth. His breath was sickeningly sweet, as though he'd eaten nothing but candy for a week. His smell was halfway between animalistic and dignified; as though one of his jokes had adopted a scent.

This was so beyond thought or reason, or anything even partially logical. My mind screamed at me to stop; pleading, reminding me just how big of a mistake I was making. But deep down, even though I was afraid of the fact, I knew that I enjoyed it.

At last The Joker pulled away, leaving my head spinning and me gasping for air. "Addie, Addie, Addie," He began. "Remember what I called you?"

Of course I did. How could I have forgotten? "The Queen of Hearts." I responded, my voice quiet.

"Good." He commended me for remembering. "Y'know, it's funny that even though you're the… 'queen of hearts', I still have complete control over you." He sneered with a grin. My eyes narrowed at his words, rekindling the fire within me.

"No, you don't." I growled, the urge to defy him bubbling up within me. Pushing my way through the door and entering my room, I picked up my shirt, throwing it over my head. The keys to my car lay on the floor, almost blending in with the darkness of the cement. I picked them up, shoving them into my pocket and running down the stairs. I needed to get away from The Joker; to reintroduce some normalcy into my life before I became totally insane. I made my way to the door, throwing it open.

The Joker gave a loud laugh as he spoke his next words: "Go ahead and leave, doll face, but you know we won't be apart for long. You'll _never_ get away from me."

I gave a glance back at The Joker, who was now in a fit of hysterical laughter, before I ran out the door, getting in my car and beginning to drive. I arrived back at my apartment twenty minutes later, immediately tearing my clothes off and jumping into the shower. I unwrapped the bandage, casting it to the shower floor, letting the water hit my wounds, washing the blood away. But it was only after I stepped out of the shower and was about to replace the bandage that I saw what marked my back. Carved into my skin, jagged and bloody, was one word: Joker.

* * *

**_Hey, guys! I'm wicked sorry that it took so long to get this up, but I've been given so much homework and I've had several very important tests that I've had to take. So hopefully this chapter's up to par. _**

**_For the many of you that have pm-ed me: thanks! If you'd prefer to send me a message instead of leaving a comment, that's fine. It's all the same to me!_**

**_The next chapter WILL undoubtedly be up tomorrow, so no worries there. Until then, comments or messages are always fun!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma _**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

* * *

The next morning brought the sun into my apartment at a relatively early hour. Fortunately for me, I was able to ignore the light that mocked me and attempted to stir me from my sleep. It wasn't until later, when I heard the quiet speech of a man, that I truly awoke.

"No, I'll be in late today if I come." The voice said, clearly into a phone. There was a pause before he spoke again. "I don't care. I'm with my cousin."

My eyes opened at that. "Bruce?" I called, sitting up in bed. I gave a wince as my back touched the headboard, pressing against my wounds. Standing near the window was my cousin. His attention shifted to me, concern and stress painted on his face. He shut his phone, ending the conversation with an obvious co-worker.

"So," Bruce began, walking towards my bed. "I never heard from you after your date. And you didn't show up for work yesterday."

I released a tremulous breath at his words. Of course Bruce wouldn't waste any time in discovering other's secrets. He never had. "I know." I responded simply, gathering my thoughts. I had never enjoyed being grilled for details by my cousin.

"Have you heard the news?" He asked carefully, sitting next to me on the bed, resting his hand on my knee. My breathing stopped at the question. I knew that there was only one bit of news he could be referring to.

"What news?" I questioned in a softly. Bruce remained still for several moments before reaching for the remote on my nightstand, turning the television on. Immediately, the voice of a news anchor filled the room: "Peter Benson, famous super model and reported ladies man, was found dead in his townhome early this morning. All evidence discovered points to a Joker killing; the most important piece being the smile carved into the victim's face."

To my horror, the screen flashed to an image of Peter's disfigured countenance; a stitched Glasgow smile carved from his lips to his cheeks, his face painted to match The Joker's. A chill ran through my body, causing me to wince and avert my gaze from the television.

"Are you alright?" Bruce inquired gently. I wished I could talk to Bruce; tell him how utterly macabre it truly was to hear Peter's cries of pain as The Joker carved a smile onto his face, to see the look in his eyes when he finally recognized that I had been involved in The Joker's plot. But the words died away before I could speak them, causing me to bury them within. I shook my head.

"Uh-huh." I confirmed, looking back at my cousin. His eyes met mine, his gaze comprehensive.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" He asked, his grip on my knee tightening. No. Losing Peter didn't hurt me at all. He had taken so much from me, including a now wasted year of my life. I couldn't feel any remorse. It was the lack of pain as well as the incredible guilt that truly hurt. My apathy towards his murder hollowed me, leaving nothing for my guilt to scorch.

"No. It doesn't." I replied, placing my hand over his. Bruce gave a nod, lifting his hand from my knee and standing. I could tell that we had entirely moved on from the subject of Peter's death as Bruce straightened his tie and posed a new question.

"Want some breakfast?"

I nodded in response, placing a hand over my stomach. I hadn't noticed the sharp pangs of hunger until Bruce had mentioned food, reminding me that it had been more than twenty-four hours since I'd eaten; the last thing being a bite of chocolate cake.

"Yes, please." I accepted, managing a small smile, which Bruce then returned. I waited, slumping down against the pillows as he exited the room momentarily, re-entering with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. My grin grew slightly at the sight; chocolate chip pancakes had always been a food that Bruce and I ate together.

"Thanks," I said as I accepted the pancakes, picking the fork up from the plate and slicing off a bit. I inhaled deeply as the food slid down my throat and into my stomach. _Relief_.

"You know, Addie," Bruce began, recapturing my attention. "Your birthday is next week, in case you forgot."

"Oh." I blinked, remembering. In the midst of all the chaos caused by The Joker I had forgotten that next week held my twenty-first birthday. "What makes you mention it?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I was thinking we could plan a party, if you wanted." He suggested with a shrug, leaving the decision to me. I gave a sigh. A birthday party had been the farthest thing from my mind, and yet it was a matter of importance. As a Wayne, I was _expected_ to throw one.

"Ok, sure." I agreed, nodding. But there was no enthusiasm in my voice. All I could concentrate on was the stinging that I felt in my back, the very object of my thoughts having been impressed upon my skin, never to be separated from me.

* * *

**_I know. This one was short. But the next one is the longest yet, so don't despair!_**

**_-HarlequinEnimga_**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

* * *

The week had passed by in an almost entirely uneventful haze; just me ignoring every magazine and news station that had contacted me, pleading for me to comment on Peter's murder. Fortunately, though several magazines persisted in their futile endeavor, the flow of phone calls and e-mails had reduced to practically nothing.

Tonight, however, would be anything but uneventful, I was sure. It was the evening of my twenty-first birthday, and I had started to prepare for my party that Bruce had planned. He wasn't typically one to plan celebrations (as he preferred to simply attend them), but when he did, they were nothing short of extravagant.

I knew next to nothing about my party, save for the fact that it entailed wearing a gown. Bruce had sent it to me yesterday, making me promise not to open it until I was preparing for the celebration. The box in which it arrived now lay on my bed, taking up a good portion of it in terms of length. I lifted the lid, tossing it carelessly to the floor. I dug through the piles of tissue paper until I reached it: my dress.

Pulling it out of the box, I spread it out across my bed. Violet and amethyst composed a flowing, silky skirt. The top was embellished in some ornately sewn and black beaded design. It was beautiful, but I couldn't help but sigh. Wearing this, I could never blend in among my guests, as I had hoped to. Along with that sad fact was that, despite it having been my favorite color since I was five, purple was no longer my signature color. It couldn't be. Not if it was The Joker's, too.

I shook my head, dismissing my childish thoughts. I untied my robe, letting it fall to the floor. I lifted the dress, stepping into it. The only problem came from tying the laced back.

"Dammit," I hissed, fumbling with the strips of satin. It was a difficult task, and it was one that I alone could do, unless I wanted the now scarring letters on my back to be exposed to others. That, of course, was not an option I considered.

Finally, the satin stayed tied in a bow, pulling the back of my dress together. I was actually thankful that Bruce had made a hair appointment for me and sent me there from work. My hair, having been arranged in a messy up-do, had been pulled off of my back. If it hadn't been, it would've been much more difficult to tie my dress.

Done with the somewhat irritating process, I walked towards my bathroom, preparing to apply more make-up than I was accustomed to wearing. I flicked on the lights, opening the cabinet that held my make-up bag. But after setting it down on the counter, I froze. Taped to my mirror was the queen of hearts card, a note accompanying it. "Smile, beautiful." It read. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing hard. The Joker had gained access to my apartment. A wave on nausea swept over me. I had no idea how he had done it, but I knew that I could no longer be safe from him, not even in my own home.

"Addie?" I voice called. _Bruce_. I reached for the card and the note, ripping them from my mirror and stuffing them into a drawer.

"I'm in my bathroom!" I responded, inhaling deeply. Despite the surge of fear that coursed through me, I would not let people suspect my unease.

Reaching into my make-up bag, I pulled out several items. My make-up was the one thing that I refused to let others do for me. I quickly applied both eye-shadow and mascara before I heard a knock on the door. I twisted the knob, opening it. Bruce stepped into the bathroom, smiling.

"You look great, Addie." He complimented, squeezing my shoulders. I returned the grin, observing my cousin's attire. He looked every inch the billionaire in his black tux, his hair having been neatly combed.

"You too," I returned the compliment, picking up a tube of lipstick and swiping the color over my lips. I rubbed them together before closing the tube and throwing it back into the bag.

"So," I began, clasping my silver and onyx necklace together in the back. "Are you bringing a date tonight?"

Bruce's smile vanished at the question. I cursed myself inwardly for asking. Bruce had still not recovered fully from the loss of Rachel.

Bruce crossed his wrists behind his back looking down briefly. "No," He started, his eyes meeting mine. "No, I'm not." He stated

"I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize." He instructed, waving a hand dismissively, forcing his smile to reappear. "I was thinking this could just be a fun time for you and me."

I gazed at him hesitantly, but his newly enforced grin stayed in place. "Ok," I said, nodding.

"Let's get out of here." Bruce suggested, offering his arm. I swallowed and inhaled before taking his arm, ensuring that my composure was intact.

"Gladly."

* * *

At last, the limousine came to a halt. Bruce and I had sat across from each other, the conversation having been minimal for the duration of the ride. I heard a car door open and shut. The driver now opened my door. Bruce exited before me, offering a hand to assist me. I took it, carefully gathering my skirts so as not to damage the dress. When my feet were both on the pavement, I gazed ahead of me, finally learning that the celebration was taking place at one of the classiest hotels in Gotham.

"Ready?" Bruce asked, putting a hand on my shoulder. I let out something between an exhale and a chuckle.

"Not at all." I replied, plastering a grin on my face. "Let's go."

Bruce gave a laugh, leading me forward with his hand still resting on my shoulder. Again my hands clutched at the dress, ensuring that I wouldn't trip as I walked up the several steps before me. I stood in front of the entrance, halted momentarily. I wetted my lips before pushing the door open, my hand now covering Bruce's. We walked down a long hallway, stopping at a door from which music could be heard. My cousin opened the door this time, exposing us to a room illuminated by blue and purple lights, invoking a playful and somewhat magical ambiance. Had Bruce not overseen each detail, the idea could've easily become the very essence of a high school prom; utterly tacky. But the room, though it would be grandiose even in its undecorated state, had been filled with gold and silver objects, the colored lights reflecting off of their polished surfaces. Other decorations glittered, all of them in rich jewel tones. The room was ornamented in such a manner that one would have guessed they were attending a masquerade ball, only to discover that no one wore masks.

I almost laughed at the irony in my realization. Though none of my guests wore masks, the unintentional theme of the party was almost too perfect for me; though Bruce too appeared differently to the public, I happened to be the only one in the room wearing a mask of normalcy that was removed only when I was alone or in the presence of a certain psychopath that had made it _necessary_ for said mask to be worn in the first place.

Shaking my head, I banished all thoughts of The Joker to the back of my mind, where, while still inducing slight feelings of unease, they were slightly less potent.

I turned my head as Alfred approached Bruce and me, offering a smile.

"Happy birthday, Miss Wayne." He congratulated, returning the grin. He extended the tray he held, offering us both a glass of champagne.

"Thanks, Alfred." I replied. I watched Bruce as he picked up a fork, the only bit of silverware in sight. Alfred took a step to the side, willing my attention and that of everyone in the room to Bruce as he clinked the fork against his champagne glass, clearing his throat loudly. Eventually the music stopped, all eyes resting on the two of us. If it wouldn't have been too much to ask in terms of birthday wishes, I would've liked to disappear. I hardly felt in the mood to socialize or gain the awareness of others.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" Bruce asked, changing his tone of voice to play the carefree billionaire. The chattering stopped. "Thanks." He said before launching into his prepared speech.

"It's been twenty-one years to the day that my cousin, Addison Wayne, was born." He began. I suppressed the urge to teasingly roll my eyes, as Bruce would've expected me to. "I remember her first birthday. I was seven at the time. At first, all I could think was: did _I_ look like that when I was born?" His intonation drew laughter from my guests and elicited a small grin from me. I nudged him as he waited, allowing the noise to die down before he continued. "For years, I hadn't found anything particularly remarkable about her. She'd always seemed like that twerp that I saw on the holidays." Again, laughter. "It wasn't until she was five, at my late aunt and uncle's funeral, that I realized how much alike we were, and how much I cared about her." I bit my lip at the mention of my late parents, careful not to let my expression change too drastically. "Since then, Addison has only become easier and easier to care about. She's grown into an intelligent, lovely, and honest woman," My stomach did a flip at the word _honest_. If only Bruce knew. "And I would do anything to protect her."

I gave a small grin at the threat in his words. It was almost as though, through his touching story, Bruce had sent a warning to everyone that could possibly upset me. How like him.

"So," Bruce continued, raising his champagne glass, everyone in the room following suit. "Here's to you, Addie. Happy birthday."

At that, I raised the glass to my lips, swallowing a large amount of the bubbling liquid. My first legal taste of alcohol meant almost nothing to me; just a way to quench my building thirst. I heard people clap as best they could with their champagne glasses.

Finally, the clapping died down. People's attention began to revert to those with whom they had been conversing prior to the interruption.

"Hungry?" Bruce asked, turning to me. I nodded in reply. All I could remember eating during the day was a bagel and a chocolate bar. I followed my cousin as he stepped down the stairs that led into the room, moving for the closest table with food on it. I picked up a plate, gathering small portions of everything within my reach. Of course, there was only one thing I was looking forward to in the entire night.

"Wanna tell me what kind of cake I'm getting?" I inquired. Bruce gave a chuckle, patting me on the back.

"No, actually, I don't." He responded with a smirk. I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head as well.

"Very nice, Bruce," I quipped. "But I'm the birthday girl, remember?"

"Doesn't change a thing." He answered, taking a sip of champagne.

"Fine." I said, defeated. Instead, I turned my attention to the food on my plate, eating whatever it was I had picked up; I hadn't really noticed in the moment.

Within moments, someone interrupted the silence between Bruce and me.

"Excuse me?" The small, high pitched voice of a woman caught both of our attention. We turned to her. The woman beamed at us both, pushing a lock of gold hair behind her ear. "Hello," She greeted. "Happy birthday, Miss. Wayne." She congratulated. I thanked her before she continued. "My name is Meredith Carey. I work for the Gotham Times."

No. Oh, no. Anywhere but _here_. _Now_. On my _birthday_. Hadn't I declined to comment on _everything_ that I had been questioned about?

"Nice to meet you, Miss Carey…" Bruce paused. "It is _miss_, right?" I nodded at my cousin in silent thanks. Bruce's flirting had helped me escape many unwanted situations.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne." Meredith replied, her cheeks flushing slightly. She cleared her throat before speaking again. "I actually just wanted to ask you several questions, Miss Wayne. That is, if you don't mind."

_Oh, I mind, dammit_, I wanted to say. But I couldn't. Or rather, I didn't need to.

"Meredith," Bruce interjected smoothly. "I can answer anything that you need to know about my cousin, unless talking to me would be... insufficient."

"N-No, not at all." Meredith stuttered. Of course there wasn't a problem; every woman in Gotham would die to spend five minutes with the city's most eligible bachelor.

"Let's find a table, then." My cousin suggested, squeezing my shoulder before he and the reporter disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone. Happy birthday to me.

Maneuvering through the throngs of people, I reached the doors to the terrace, pushing them open. I took several steps away from the building, separating myself from the celebration. Once the doors had closed behind me, I began to wander, gravitating towards the topiary maze. I inhaled slowly before casting a glance over my shoulder, ensuring that I was entirely isolated from the frivolity that I had been forced to endure. Satisfied, I stepped into the maze. The path twisted in many directions and guided me to different topiaries, at last leading me to a fountain. I plopped down on its edge, resting my elbows on my leg and propping my head up with my hands. I gave a sigh. I shouldn't have let Bruce bother throwing me a party; it was wasted on me.

I didn't want to return to the multitude of people awaiting me in the ballroom, each of them ready to grin at me like lunatics, congratulating me for something that they couldn't care less about. Even worse were the ones that I knew had arrived, the people preparing to offer their sympathies in regard to Peter's death. Worst of all, however, were the people that I knew would avoid me; each of them afraid that I was cursed with death and madness. And perhaps I was. After all, had I not spent about a week's worth of my life with the city's most feared psychopathic villain? Did I not have his name carved into my back?

I squeezed my eyes shut at the thought of my scars. I felt flames beneath my skin, pressing against the puckered surface. I wiped the gloss from my lips onto the back of my hand, dipping it into the water to cleanse it. My teeth dug into my lip, dragging it backwards, forcing me to correct my posture and stand. I dried my hand on my dress, not caring if the silk was now damp. If I had to return to the celebration, proceeding to hide under my assumed façade of birthday joy, I shouldn't have had to care about the condition of my skirts.

But in moving through the winding paths, I found that my general unluckiness had not evaded me, despite it being my birthday. I came to many dead ends, growing more and more frustrated at each one. How many damn topiaries did they have?

After another fifteen minutes, at the very least, I emerged from the maze, my feet sore from walking so much in heels. I sunk to the ground, pulling off the blister-inducing things and tossing them aside. Five more minutes. Just five more minutes of solitude was all I needed.

As fate would have it, I would not be granted those five minutes. Leather met my skin as hands slid over my bare shoulders, causing my heart to jump to throat. Before I could say anything, I felt myself being pulled up by my neck and turned around.

"Well, look at you, Addie." The Joker began, a grin on his face as he eyes scanned me. "That's a nice dress, beautiful. Purple, too." He complimented. "It's almost like we were made for each other, huh?" He asked with a chuckle.

Swallowing, I pushed myself away from him. "What the hell are you doing here?" I questioned in a hiss. The Joker smacked his lips before answering in a drawn out, almost repentant manner.

"I know I wasn't invited, but something told me that you'd want me here. And I'm not really one to… deprive people, you know?"

"My birthday wish," I spat sardonically.

"I knew it."

Silence passed between us for several moments, The Joker eyeing me skeptically. How could I deal with the situation at hand? Run? Scream? Hit him? Clearly, I couldn't run; lest I should lead him to the guests at my party. But screaming, screaming would only give him satisfaction, as would hitting him.

"Look," I started, taking several steps away from him. "Do whatever you want, but don't do anything to _anyone_ in that room." I commanded in the most authoritative voice I could muster.

"I don't think you get it, doll face." He said with a smirk. "Everyone in that room," He pointed towards the hotel. "Is _expecting_ me."

My skin drained of color. "What?"

The Joker sighed, gripping my wrist and dragging me behind him. Through the French doors, I could see a gigantic cake being wheeled into the room. Everyone immediately began to congregate around it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, comprehension flickering across my face. He gave a laugh at that, taking my chin in his hand and forcing me to look at him.

"Does this look like a time to be serious?" He questioned mockingly. I pulled my face free from his grasp, turning my attention to the cake. Just as anticipated, the top of the cake flew off, producing a man wearing a clown mask; one of The Joker's henchmen. "Time to make our entrance!" The Joker said excitedly, pulling a gun from his trench coat and shooting the doors open. The gasps and screams of many of my guests filled the air at the sound of the gunshot. The Joker pushed me into the room with his gun, following directly after me.

"Hello, members of Gotham's _elite,_" He addressed the terrified party-goers. "I thought that it would be rude of me not to show up to a Wayne _event._" He stressed the last word, clenching his hand on my upper arm. I scanned the room quickly for Bruce, but had little luck in finding him. I could only hope that he had escaped as the cake had been brought in.

"So," The Joker began, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "I just wanted to stop by and bring a little present." He informed everyone, gesturing to one of the henchmen that now filled the room. The henchman, wearing a frowning clown mask, stepped forward, producing a clumsily wrapped box. "Why don't we let the birthday girl open it, huh?" He suggested. The clown dropped the box into my arms. I narrowed my eyes, looking to The Joker.

"Go on, beautiful," He urged, pointing the gun at my guests. "It's _your_ present."

With a gulp, I pulled at the messily tied bow, throwing it to the floor along with the tissue paper. In opening the box, I found that it housed a bomb and a set timer.

A bomb. I was holding a live, unexploded bomb.

Immediately, my teeth found their way to my lip, biting down with as much force as the delicate skin could take without bleeding. At least it was a distraction from my trembling hands.

"See," The Joker continued, speaking to everyone, "I'm trying to find Meredith Carey. She doesn't seem to know how to present me to the public, so, uh, we've got a bit of a _problem_." All eyes began to sweep the room, searching for the reporter. "So, if she isn't dead in the next thirty minutes, you guys will be." He told the entire room, giving a manic chuckle. Gasps filled the room, along with hundreds of different conversations.

"Oh, except for you, sweetheart." The Joker said, grabbing my arm, now laughing hysterically. The celebration had turned into utter chaos as many of the guests began to look about frantically, hunting for Meredith Carey. Amidst the pandemonium, no one noticed us as we made our exit, along with the several henchmen that had accompanied The Joker.

"Go back there and defuse that bomb, dammit!" I cried as he dragged me around the building. What if my cousin hadn't escaped? What if someone in that room really _did _kill the reporter? What if all of Gotham's upper-class citizens were blown to pieces?

"Don't worry," The Joker said through gritted teeth. "I'm sure good old _Batsy_ will show up and ruin the joke," He spat Batman's name as though it were the vilest thing he could say. "And if not," He continued, holding a finger up. "All the better."

Temporarily silenced by the desperate hope that Batman would liberate my guests from their gruesome fate, I gave no initial response as we stopped in front of a semi-truck, The Joker releasing me and throwing me over to his clowns. I felt myself being hoisted up and pushed into the cab of the truck.

"Put me the hell down!" I demanded in a hiss, kicking one of the men in the face. He fell to the ground, leaving me mere seconds to jump from the truck and escape. But my efforts were thwarted by The Joker's laughter and by a hand that he had tangled in my hair, jerking me towards him and causing my hair to fall from the up-do in which it had been arranged. I gave a cry of protest and pain as a result.

"It's better for me if you stay quiet, doll face," He informed me, pulling out his switchblade and holding it in front of my face. "Get my drift?"

I nodded, giving a shaky exhale.

"Good!" He exclaimed, starting the engine. As we waited for the clowns to get into the truck, I let my gaze curiously roam over The Joker's face, trying to desperately to decipher the mysteries of a man that _nobody_ could fully understand.

Unfortunately, The Joker noticed me as I stared at his scarred mouth. His lips curved upward, matching the marks carved into his face.

"Oh, I get what you want." He said with a chuckle. "A birthday kiss? Why you insistent little _slut_."

Before I could make clear my actions, The Joker's mouth was on mine, pressing against my lips ardently and with a force that caused my lips to part. I could feel his make-up smear across them, but, sickeningly, I didn't care. He released a hot breath into my mouth, causing my body to go limp with a strange sort pleasure that I knew I shouldn't have felt. I melted into his touch, enjoying the warmth of leather as his hands roamed over my neck.

But then, I felt his fingers pressing into a soft spot at the base of my neck.

"Happy birthday, Addie." The Joker whispered harshly.

With a moan, I could feel myself slipping into a state characterized by total unawareness and a lack of light; a state of somnolence.

* * *

**_Yay! Longest chapter so far! And you guys didn't even have to wait that long! I guess I was just having a good writing day._**

**_Anyways, the next one should be up this on either Friday or Saturday. Until then, feel free to keep reviewing and messaging me._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	15. Chapter 15

_**Chapter 15**_

* * *

My eyes opened to a sight I had seen only once before. Scattered papers, torn books, and playing cards were strewn across the floor which I lay on. A wooden chair, a swivel chair, and a desk. Newspaper articles on the desk. Chocolate cake. This was, undoubtedly, The Joker's office… and yet it was strange, unfamiliar. Why was I not in the dingy little room that I found myself in so often?

My answer came from the far corner of the room where The Joker stood, sharpening one of his many knives.

"Just a change of scenery, beautiful. I felt like watching you this time." He told me, having easily guessed my mind's question. He proceeded in sharpening the blade, not looking at me when he spoke.

That question being answered, a new one arose. "What the hell happened?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

The Joker pulled his eyes away from his work, sending me a skeptical glance. "I thought that it would've been, uh, slightly _obvious_ judging from your current _state_." He replied, pulling a corner of his mouth up in a lopsided, closed-lip smile.

"I know; you knocked me out. But that's not what I was talking about." I retorted.

"Ah," The Joker said, comprehension flickering across his face in the form of a wide grin. Stepping out of the corner, he walked over to his desk, sitting on his chair and propping his feet up on the damaged wood surface. "Well, I'm the sort of guy that just… knows things, huh?" He began, reaching for the glass of water near his feet and taking a swig from it before continuing. "And I'm, uh, pretty sure that our beloved _Batsy_ showed up to your party to ruin my joke."  
_Thank God,_ I wanted to say. If such were the case, I wouldn't be able to thank Batman enough. Instead I let out a slow exhale, relieved. "I'm so sorry." I apologized in a monotone voice. The Joker lifted his feet, repositioning himself so that his elbows rested on the desk. He made a gesture of acceptance.

"Thanks, Addie," He said with a lecherous grin. "You really know how to make a man feel… _sinfully _good."

My ears burned at his words. There was something about the word "sinfully" that made me sound like a cunning temptress rather than a targeted victim. "Take that back," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"But it's _true,_"The Joker chuckled, standing from his desk and walking over to me, kneeling on one leg, resting his arm on it. "There's just something about you that turns men into… dogs." He informed me, giving me a man's perspective (though he thought much differently than most men). As if I didn't know that most of the men I'd ever met were dogs.

"I'm aware." I responded bitterly, turning my head away. I heard The Joker smack his lips before clamping his hands on my arms and pulling me onto my feet. Before I could protest, I felt myself being lifted from the floor and dropped onto the mess of newspapers that covered his desk. The Joker's arms squeezed at my back, causing me to draw in a sharp breath at the pressure against my scars.

"You know," He started, running his tongue across his lips. "It's funny. I'm the only… _dog_ that you'll let touch your pretty skin."

I gave a snarl, poised to fire back at him, but was silenced by his mouth as it crushed into mine. Briefly, I had a thought to pull away, but it passed as I shut my eyes; reawakening that twisted side of me that wanted nothing more than The Joker's rough touch and painted lips against me. I allowed him to hold me up as I lifted my hands from the desk, twining them violently into his oily strands of hair, throwing myself into the kiss.

I could feel The Joker's hand as it slipped beneath my dress skirts, trailing slowly up my leg, resting suggestively on my thigh. I gave a delighted shudder at the touch, tightening my grip on the greasy tendrils which I held between my fingers.

Perhaps as a result of my passionate response, The Joker's teeth sunk into the skin of my lower lip. I convulsed, drawing in a sharp breath. I felt blood begin to well from the bite marks on the sensitive skin, however small an amount. Had I not drawn blood from my lips so many times on my own, I might have been frightened, might have felt pain. But there was nothing; nothing but lust that had built up within me along with some strange, alien emotion that was even more satisfied by his touch than my desire.

The Joker's tongue now danced over my lip, licking at the crimson fluid that coated it. Pushing me further onto his desk, he positioned himself so that, while his feet remained on the floor, he was above me, still supporting my weight with one arm.

Again, his tongue delved into my mouth, slipping past my battered lips. My blood mingled with his warm, sweet breath, creating a flavor that, although foreign, I savored.

The Joker's hand, still on my thigh, began to move up and down against the skin, eliciting a breathy moan from me. I could feel as his lips curved into a smile at the sound, pulling away from mine and transferring to my neck, placing fierce kisses upon it and nipping in several places. Red paint, already smudged onto my lips and face, now stained my neck; a claiming mark of The Joker.

Finally, he drew away from my neck, pressing his mouth to mine once more in a slower, gentler kiss.

"Like I said, sweetheart. _Sinful_." He reminded me, running his hand down my leg and removing it from under my skirts. I moved to stand from the desk, but was held in place by The Joker's firm grip on my arms. "I just wanna see something." He spoke in a harsh, low voice, walking around his desk until he stood behind me. My body went rigid as I felt him begin to unzip my dress, exposing my back; specifically my scars. My hands flew immediately to my zipper, trying to cover the wounds.

"Don't worry, doll face. I'm not gonna hurt you." The Joker reassured in a voice that made me doubt his promise. He captured my hands, removing them from my back. I closed my eyes as he inspected his work, running a callused hand over the damaged skin. "_Perfect."_ He spoke in a low, hissing voice. I gave a gasp as I felt him press his hot tongue to my back, dragging it up to my collar bone. "Don't make a sound," He commanded harshly into my ear. I nodded, turning around to see the reason behind his demand. My eyes settled on the video camera that The Joker held, aiming it at my bare back.

"See this, Gotham?" He questioned, focusing in on my scars. "_This _is a symbol. I've made my mark on this city," He voiced, then turning the camera to rest upon his face. "And no matter how many times you turn to Batsy for help, things are _never_ going to get any better for you. So, either you pack your bags, or you stay and play. It's up to you, Gotham; so choose wisely."

With that, he turned off the video camera, laying it down on the desk. I finally stood, re-zipping the back of my dress, staring directly into The Joker's scornful, sneering eyes.

"You mutilated my back so you could show it to the city?" I questioned in a snarl.

The Joker gave a laugh at that caused his entire body to shake. "No, no, no, _no._ I didn't create that _masterpiece_ just for some stupid city. They'll only see it once." He explained, gesturing to my back.

"Then why the hell did you do it?" I prodded angrily, my eyes narrowing. The Joker paused for a moment before he spoke again.

"Well, doll face, I think it's, uh, it's kinda _clear_ that I've taken a bit of an… _interest_ in you," He began, carefully choosing words to fit his purpose. "But you always seem to run away from me. So," He paused, sliding his tongue across his lip. "I wanted to give you something to remember me by when I'm not around." He elucidated his reason, which left me silent. He'd confirmed my beliefs; the gashes that covered my back were to keep The Joker always in my mind, regardless of where I was.

The Joker's voice broke through the noiselessness. "Daddy's gotta go chat with the mob now, sweetheart." He informed me, stepping in front of me. "So, how about a good-bye kiss, hmm?"

I said nothing, only inclined my head forward, shortening the distance between our faces. Weeks ago, hell, even days ago, I would not have been so willing, so eager to accept The Joker's touch. But some time during the past twenty-four hours, my desire, my enjoyment of his brutal caresses, had intensified.

In the midst of my thoughts, The Joker pressed his lips to mine, meeting no resistance. Momentarily, his tongue swept through my mouth, but retreated after mere seconds. After placing a fierce peck upon my lips, he pulled away, smirking. Wordlessly, he turned from me, only pausing when he reached the door.

"See you later, doll face."

And with that, he departed, leaving me alone, my thoughts growing more suffocating. After only several moments, I speed from the room, kicking off my heels before descending the metal staircase. Upon reaching the bottom, I slipped the shoes back on, flinging the door open and stepping out into the sunlight. The bright rays battled against my mood, but lost in the end, giving way to my mind's questions: how many times could I escape from and return to one man? How many times could he play at this game without growing bored?

The answer did not come. I could not ruminate on these thoughts when another more prominent, more suffocating idea filled my mind and caused my body, specifically my chest, which constricted as a reaction. I crushed my back into the cemented walls, closing my eyes tightly and swallowing hard at my revelation.

All of it made sense in a twisted, horrifying way. I knew why I refused to divulge any information about him to others, why I was less afraid of him than I should've been, and the reason that I responded to, and even craved his touch.

I loved him.

* * *

**_... Sorry. That's the first thing I have to say. It's been forever since I've updated, and I apologize. I've recieved a lot of concerned messages, and I'd like this to serve as a reply to everyone that contacted me: yes, I am planning on continuing this story. It is most certainly alive and well, and I've already started on chapter sixteen. I'm quite busy of late, but I'm trying my best to finish these chapters in a more timely manner._**

**_Another question I've been asked: will there be a sequel? The answer to that is yes, there will be. I have started compiling ideas for it, which is also taking up some of my time. However, I am also going to be working on a more Bruce Wayne oriented story at some point; I simply need to decide which to start working on first. Depending on responses (comments, messages) that I recieve, I will determine the order of which I write first._**

**_Lastly, I would like to know what you guys would like to see happen within the next few chapters. I have them mostly planned out, but your ideas always help!_**

**_Thanks,_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16**_

* * *

The hours spent after temporarily returning to my apartment were filled with disturbing, disheartening nothingness. After tearing off my purple gown and letting it fall to the floor, I had bolted for my closet, throwing a tank-top over my head and zipping myself into a pair of jeans. Before retrieving my cell phone from its charger, I rubbed the remains of last night's make-up from my face. Picking up the phone, I punched in Bruce's number.

"Addie?" His voice was filled with relief. "What happened to you last night? Why didn't you call sooner?"

His questions were, of course, ones that I couldn't answer honestly.

"I'm fine, Bruce," I started by reassuring him. At least, physically, that was true. "The Joker gave me a bomb for my birthday." I told him in a lightly teasing voice, trying to set him at ease. "The dress was beautiful, but I can't say it was the most interesting gift."

I heard my cousin sigh on the other line. "Nice, Addie. But I'd like to know how you got out of there alright." He said, demanding information. I raised my hand to my mouth, massaging my stinging lower lip as I thought.

"The Joker let me go." I informed him. At least that was partially true. He had never stopped me from leaving when I did. "I don't think he'd really meant to kill me," Of course he hadn't. Not then, anyways. "I think he was going for psychological torture; letting me get out alive and not know whether or not the others would live."

There. I hadn't exactly lied to Bruce… but, again, neither had I told him the whole truth.

"I heard that Batman saved them." I added, mentally thanking Batman, whoever he was, for everything he had done for the city. However, that was an almost hypocritical act of me; thanking a man that worked to bring order where The Joker had brought chaos and destruction.

"I heard something about that, too." Bruce agreed. "Even though the guy dresses up as a bat, he's good for some things."

I sighed at that. Bruce had always held some strange sort of aversion for Batman.

"I don't know what you have against him, but all I can say is I'm thankful that he's here for Gotham." I said, praising the city's so called "dark knight." Bruce was called away within several moments, leaving me no time to question him about his disappearance last night. I had hung up the phone, but the instant that I had, I felt discomfort settle over me once more; my calming aid was gone. Gazing out at Gotham's skyline, I was filled with the sudden feeling of being trapped. I grabbed several hundred dollar bills, jamming them into my pocket. I left my apartment with little more than my clothes and my keys.

* * *

The streets and sights of Gotham, the backdrop of my life for every year since my birth, had been covered by a bleak, sinister façade, hiding even the places that I loved most under it.

I spent hours just wandering; my feet, though slowed with nauseating trepidation, dragged me aimlessly through the city. My countless steps ended at the gothic styled stone bridge that stretched across Gotham Lake, connecting Downtown Gotham City and the mainland. Railing made of the same stone provided a barrier between the water and the buildings behind for those who wanted to glimpse at the lake, providing a wooden bench as well. I plopped down onto the bench, my legs having grown weary from the many hours I had spent on my feet. Exhaling, I brushed a bit of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. In ending my walk, I had given way to the thoughts that had been in the back of my head, waiting to strike.

The Joker. A sick, warm feeling swept over me at the thought of him, but my mind was quick to go against the sensation, bringing questions that I was unable to answer. What would loving him do to me? What would it do to Bruce? What would it do to Gotham?

I forced my eyes shut, doing my best to shut out my mind's inquiries. Wasn't love supposed to be something that filled a person with carefree joy? Instead, it plagued me viciously, taunting me and reminding me that I had fallen for The Joker; a man that murdered in attempts to drive Gotham into utter, unfixable chaos. My attraction to him was my own form of madness.

I stood from the bench, folding my arms from my chest, approaching the railing. The moon had risen, casting its glow upon Gotham Lake. The waters, undulant in motion, were peaceful, beckoning, even. They knew nothing but serenity, thus making them an almost perfect way to relieve myself of the stresses I felt. Inhaling deeply, I swung my body onto the railing, letting myself fall from there into the lake.

The waters were icier than I had anticipated. I felt the coldness touch every area of my body, caressing me. My head began to rise to the surface, but I dove down into the water, denying myself what my body craved.

_Breathe!_ My lungs screamed at me, protesting against the lack of air. But I couldn't listen to it. I couldn't just breathe and let go, even if refusing to do so killed me. I had to bury it all inside of me, so deep that I would forget everything. I dug deeper within myself as I thrashed about in the water, digging deep enough so I could bury my love for The Joker, so I could seal it within myself.

But it didn't work. I let out an inaudible scream as I felt hands grab at me. _No!_ I wanted to cry; anything that would stop them from pulling me out of the lake. I needed the water that pulled me down; needed it more than I had ever needed oxygen.

It wasn't long before my body was lifted from the water. I coughed violently, sputtering out the water that had filled my lungs. I sucked in a choked breath, desperate for air. It was only after completing these two actions that I realized I was being carried by someone that, after climbing the stone wall, laid my body carefully on the bench. My head felt light and my body shook from the chill of lake, and I could scarcely make out the figure before me. Only a glimpse of the tank-like vehicle that stood in the street behind him gave away

"B-Batman?" I spoke his name with uncertainty. My teeth had begun to chatter.

"Yes?" He asked in his deep, gravelly voice. I squinted my eyes, focusing on him as best I could in my current state. He wiped the dripping water from his face.

"T-Thank y-you." I said, deciding that I was, in fact, grateful for his rescue. In my moment of temporary insanity, I had nearly drowned.

Batman didn't respond at first. He turned his head to look at me, eyes burning into mine.

"Why'd you do it?" He questioned. I bit my lip at his question, still my body quivering. Had he truly witnessed that scene?

"I… I d-don't know." I responded. Of course I knew what I was trying to do… I just didn't know why I had chosen to do it in the way I had. Sadly, my attempt to forget The Joker had the reverse effect. Instead of exterminating my thoughts of him, my shivering body craved his warm touch, his lips against mine. "Maybe I had an aneurysm." I finished with a weak chuckle.

I heard Batman sigh before picking me up and opening the door to his car, the bat mobile, as it was commonly called, and placing me in the passenger's seat. I knew that, were I not in my current state, the twinge of excitement I felt would have been more pronounced. But at the same time, my stomach was filled with a feeling of misplacement; I didn't belong here, next to the man that was working to undo all of The Joker's work. I was guilty by association.

It seemed like mere seconds before the bat mobile had been parked and Batman stepped out of it, but in that short amount of time my shivering had worsened and my eyelids grew heavy. Through my blurry vision I could see the light from a building. Amidst my attempts to see, my door opened, Batman pulling me carefully from the seat and into his arms. I gave a shaky moan as my head rolled back; I knew I was close to losing consciousness.

"Where-"

"Shh." He quieted me, putting a finger to my lips. The gesture surprised me, as it was slightly tender. "We're at the hospital." He informed me. Were I not debilitated at that moment, I would have argued, saying there was no need for me to go to the hospital. But my icy body's convulsing and my lightheadedness were evidence that my argument would have been incorrect.

For several moments we stood there, me growing less lucid by the second, but my ears soon detected the sound of a gurney being wheeled in our direction.

"What's wrong?" A female voice questioned.

"Hypothermia. She's losing consciousness."

The voices continued to talk, though their words became foreign, unrecognizable as I lost control of my senses, shadows encroaching on my vision and forcing me into a dark, unfeeling sleep.

* * *

Upon awakening, I was temporarily blinded by the bright light which entered my room through the window. I blinked several times, allowing my eyes to adjust. My gaze swept the room, taking in the sights of the hospital which surrounded me. I had been changed into a hospital gown, a fact which caused breathing to cease for several moments. I winced, afraid that whoever had changed me had seen the scars that covered my back.

Through my moment of panic, I noticed the pressure of an IV in my arm. Irritated, I pulled the needle from the crook of my arm. There was no need for it to be there.

"Excuse me, did you just take that out of your arm?" A meek voice inquired. A wide-eyed woman of about my age entered the room, straightening her glasses.

"Yes, I did." I responded with a shrug. "I don't need it."

For a moment, I thought I saw a smile tug at the corners of her lips, but it faded almost instantaneously. "I'll be the judge of that. I'm Doctor Elizabeth McLaren, by the way." She told me, grabbing my chart from the table on which it sat, shuffling through the papers. I only nodded in response, despite the fact that she couldn't see the gesture. After several seconds she looked up, her eyes meeting mine. "Well," She began, setting the folder down and tightening her chestnut ponytail. "There's nothing in these labs that demand you use an IV. You have several bruises, but those should heal up within the week." She ripped her gaze from mine after speaking the word bruises. Her actions entreated me to ask the question that had been welling up within me.

"Did you change me into this hospital gown?"

Again, Elizabeth tightened her ponytail; a nervous habit, as I was now detecting. "Yes." She answered quietly.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing that Gotham would get word of." She replied, now meeting my gaze. There was something in her eyes that reassured me, told me she was trustworthy. I gave a sigh of relief, which drained from me only seconds later as she added: "However, it says in this report that you jumped into the Gotham Lake. I'd like to have a licensed psychiatrist ask you some questions. Is that alright?"

"Sure," I mumbled. As long as the questions weren't in regards to the markings on my back, I didn't care. Though it was disturbingly wrong, Peter's death could hide the truths of my strange behaviors.

"Good." Elizabeth said, now offering a smile. "I'll take you down to the psych ward in just a few moments." She informed me, leaving the room temporarily and returning with a plastic grocery bag, tossing it to me.

"What's in this?" I asked, looking to her. She allowed a grin to cross her face once more.

"You're clothes." She told me. "I dried them. Figured you'd be more comfortable in them." She said, drumming her fingers several times on the table.

"Thanks." I said, returning her smile. She allowed me several moments to change into my clothes before leading me into the hallway. I followed her down several staircases to the psych ward, which was, unsurprisingly, in the basement. Once there, Elizabeth opened the door to a dimly lit room filled only by a dark, leather chez and an armchair of similar design. I gulped at the sight, as I had not been through any sort of therapy since I was a child.

"We currently have a shortage of psychiatrists here," She started, breaking through my thoughts. "So we've had to ask others to step in temporarily. I hope that doesn't bother you."

"Honestly, I don't care." I responded cynically, my initial sourness returning.

"The doctor will be in shortly." She reported, taking her leave and shutting the door behind her. Glancing about, I inhaled, walking to the chez and plopping down. For several moments, I dared to think about The Joker, dared to imagine his hot breath on my neck, his green hair as it slipped through my fingers.

The door opened and slammed shut, interrupting my fantasy. The lanky figure that stood in the doorway sighed, shaking his head as he did so. As he edged into the light his visage became clear. I ran my gaze over his familiar appearance, noting the way his dark brown hair fell in front of his light blue eyes, which were covered by glasses. He carried only a clipboard and a pencil, both of which he laid on the armchair before approaching me.

"Hello," He greeted in a smooth, lulling voice, extending his hand. "My name is Doctor Jonathan Crane."

* * *

**_Yay! This was updated sooner than I thought it would be. I apologize for the lack of Joker in this one, and regret to inform you that there will also be little of him in the next chapter as well. However, either chapter eighteen or nineteen should be very Joker-filled, and from then on, you will not be Joker-less._**

**_Hopefully you'll enjoy Doctor Crane's role in the next few chapters. I felt the need to place, if only temporarily, another villain in the story as well._**

**_Thanks for the messages and reviews! They are always welcome, and they never fail to inspire me._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

* * *

"_Jonathan Crane?" _My voice was filled with disbelief. I was about to be analyzed by a man that used his own patients to test a fear toxin?

"Correct." He responded, grasping my hand and shaking it firmly. "It's wonderful to meet you, Miss Wayne."

"Likewise." I said in a dry voice, my lips curving downwards. I pulled my hand from his grip, brushing a bit of hair away from my face. Crane stepped back, lifting his pencil and clipboard from the seat of the chair and sitting down, straightening his glasses. His calm manner enabled me to ask the question that my mind had developed. "Why are you here, exactly?" I inquired, trying my best not to sound offensive. I hardly wanted to be the next subject of his experiments. "I thought you worked at Arkham."

Crane pulled his eyes away from his clipboard, meeting my gaze. "I do work at Arkham," He informed me, nodding his head once. "But I was offered a position treating patients here as well." He explained, thus answering my question. But new ones arose within me, and I was quick to ask them.

"Am I wrong in believing that you experimented with a fear toxin on your patients?"

A small grin appeared on his face at that, and he responded to me. "I think you'll find that I've been rehabilitated, Miss Wayne." He spoke confidently, his slight grin reinforcing his words. "I myself was under the influence of the toxin for the greater part of the time in which I was working against Gotham. You see, I'm a psychiatrist that specializes in drugs and the effects which they have on the mind and body. After carefully researching that specific drug, I have become familiar with it, and know now what it does to the body, which defeats the point of experimenting. I no longer have a need to use it with patients." He told me in his smooth voice. Despite his obvious glib, I didn't believe him. Most likely, he had paid off the judge that directed his trial to grant him pardon, undoubtedly with the money that he had received from working for Carmine Falcone.

Raising an eyebrow, I decided to taunt him. "There's just one problem; I'm not criminally insane, so you're wasting your time, Dr. Crane."

He laughed at that, temporarily removing his glasses from his face. "Miss Wayne, although my areas of expertise lie within both drugs and the criminally insane, I think you'll find that I'm quite good at working on slightly less…_extreme_ cases." He reassured me, his slight grin still pulling at the corners of his lips.

A moment of silence passed between us as he jotted something down on the paper which the clipboard held. Slipping his glasses back into place, his gaze settled on me again.

"So, now that you've asked me several questions, I believe that it's my turn." He said, straightening his posture.

I swallowed hard, preparing myself for whatever I was about to endure. "Alright." I nodded, inviting him to proceed.

His first question was hardly unpredictable. "How old were you when your parents died?"

"Five." I answered automatically. Although I was denied the opportunity of living a normal childhood, the subject of their death was not as difficult to discuss as it should have been. I knew that the only reason that I was less upset by the topic was because Bruce had been there to help me; he had experienced something that, while much more tragic, was similar.

"And how would you say that their death affected you?"

I bit my lip in thought before answering. "It sobered me up." I responded, folding my arms over my chest. "It helped me get closer to my cousin." I added, refusing to say more about the topic. Crane nodded again, continuing to write down his thoughts on me.

"Miss Wayne," He began, looking up. "I apologize for asking you so many questions of this nature, but I'd like to know about your reaction to the death of Peter Benson."

I wetted my lips lightly before deciding upon an answer. "It felt strange to have him murdered, since I'd known him… very personally." Which was undeniably true; however, it hardly included every emotion I had felt after Peter's death.

Crane made a sound of acknowledgement. Again, he pressed his pencil to the paper before him, writing down any deductions he had made from my words. He glanced up at me upon finishing, asking a new question.

"And would you say that you were still in love with Peter at this point?"

What _was_ this? I had never spoken with anyone more direct, save for Bruce and… well, The Joker. I doubted that most psychiatrists delved instantly and so obviously into the painful depths of a patient's mind, but, then again, Jonathan Crane was clearly not like most psychiatrists.

"No, I was not."

"Why?"

I narrowed my eyes at Crane, trying perhaps to see into his mind, to see his thought process. It didn't work. My eyes still narrowed, I answered him. "Because he'd been compulsively cheating on me for about five months prior to his death."

"I'm sorry," Crane apologized in a monotone voice, perceptibly not sorry.

"Don't bother saying it." I said bitterly, folding my arms and placing them behind my head. It felt strange for me to think of a time in which I had loved someone other than the psychopathic clown that I was currently infatuated with. "I've heard that from too many people that don't actually care."

Crane's eyes widened at that, and his brows furrowed in thought. "Alright, Miss Wayne," He started, his former blank expression returning to his face. "No apologies."

I nodded in thanks, settling down onto the couch a little more. The fear that I had felt before had now vanished, or at least, it had disappeared from the front of my mind.

The inquiries began again, only this time they were rhetorical.

"So, why do you think Peter's death upset you, if you didn't love him?"

The question caused guilt to rip through my stomach, making me wince. I could feel sweat beads prickling at my back, attesting to the nerves that now plagued me.

"Because… because he was a part of my life." I informed him; another half truth. Unfortunately for me, Crane was hell-bent on driving me to insanity with his questions, specifically the next one he asked.

"And how would you say that you feel about The Joker?"

Did he suspect something? Was he trying to force me into admitting my love for The Joker?

"I-I don't know," I lied, my voice wavering slightly. That had been the only real lie I'd told Crane, and yet it was as though my affections for The Joker weighed down on me, cursing me for not admitting my true feelings.

"You don't know…" Crane repeated my words as though he were testing their credibility. His face remained unchanged by my words. "Are you not angry?"

My conscious seemed to bite at me, chastising me for being angrier for the feelings of guilt that The Joker caused, the sentiment constantly welling up within me, than I was about his actual murder of Peter.

"Yes, I'm angry. Most sane people would be." I responded coldly. And yet I had to pause and wonder; exactly how sane was I?

There was a brief pause before Crane spoke again. "Ok then, Miss Wayne," He said, dropping his clipboard and pencil to the floor. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to step out of the room to make a quick call."

I simply shrugged my shoulders in response, trying to behave casually. Several moments alone would help me in regaining control over my thoughts and emotions.

Pulling a cell phone from his suit pocket, Crane flipped the top up, immediately beginning to punch in numbers. I quirked a brow as he stood, opening the door, holding a finger up before stepping out. The door closed behind him, leaving me temporarily alone.

Inhaling deeply, I steepled my fingers, pressing my hands against my mouth. Closing my eyes, I released my breath, summoning the fantasy that I had been enjoying before Crane had entered the room, allowing it to play in my mind. I almost chuckled at the thought that The Joker would be proud of my lying to Crane for my own benefit. Selfish, greedy. And he loved it.

But soon, I heard the door open again. Crane stepped forward, tucking the phone away into his pocket and taking his place in the chair again.

"Well, Miss Wayne," He started, wetting his lips. "Let me begin by saying that I'm not sure that I believe every word that you've said to me thus far."

My blood ran cold at his words. So my lying abilities were less impeccable than I'd thought they'd become.

"See," He spoke, picking his clipboard and pencil up from the floor. "Being a psychiatrist, I've been trained to determine when a patient is lying to me. And, as I said, I'm not sure that you've been entirely truthful."

"And what would be the result of your not believing me?" I asked harshly, disguising the nervousness that rose within my chest and seemed to control every beat of my heart.

"I'd like to take a closer look at you, Miss Wayne. So, as your doctor, I'd like to transfer you to Arkham for one twenty-four hour period." He informed me calmly.

My eyes widened at his words. "Are you calling me a criminal or are you calling me insane?" I asked, my voice breaking several times.

Crane gave a laugh, shaking his head. "No, Addison," He began, using my first name, his laughter dying down within seconds. "I'm calling you a liar."

* * *

_**I can't even begin to say how truly sorry I am. It's been more than two weeks since my last update, and for that I am sorry. I've been crazy busy lately. This chapter was hard for me to write; probably because it was mostly dialogue and had no Joker (which I apologize for). The next chapter should come easier, especially since I have it all planned out. **_

**_I'm also thinking of putting up a playlist for this story. If anyone has a song that they think embodies this story or a character within it, I'd really appreciate it if you'd give me the song as a suggestion to add to the others._**

**_Aside from that, I promise that the Joker will reappear in not too long. I know you guys would go... well, insane without him._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

* * *

The ride to Arkham was one of the most unpleasant in my life. I sat in the passenger's seat of Crane's Cadillac, stiff and mute. It was unbelievable, almost so that it was laughable, that the hospital had no qualms whatsoever with discharging me in favor of a transfer to Arkham. Within less than half an hour, in which Crane's cold, all seeing gaze forced me to sign each paper that I'd needed to, they'd released me.

The car had been silent, save for the music played by the changing radio stations. Finally, Crane settled on one: classical.

"Do you ever listen to this station?" He asked, temporarily tearing his gaze away from the largely unoccupied road.

"Sometimes." I'd replied. In that brief moment, I took note of the similarities between this car ride and the first one I'd been on with The Joker. Unfortunately, I couldn't place thoughts of him in the back of my mind, as Crane and I drove over the very bridge that had delivered me from the waters to which I had given myself and into the doctor's grasp. I raised a brow at the fact that we were crossing the bridge, turning now to address Crane. "I thought that Arkham was located in the Narrows."

Again, Crane pulled his gaze from the street. "Actually, no, Addison. We've moved the hospital back to its original location on the mainland."

I had no response to his statement, as I was clearly not familiar with the asylum's history. Sighing, Crane launched into his explanation: "Arkham Asylum was founded by Amadeus Arkham in the year 1908. It was moved to the Narrows in 1953. Last year the location changed back to its original."

"Oh." I remarked, nodding at his elucidation. I turned my gaze to the lake, shivering as I pictured myself thrashing about in the water.

"Cold?" Crane asked, drawing my attention back to him. It would have been slightly hard for me to be cold at that point; the car was at least seventy-five degrees, but I nodded nonetheless. Crane turned the heat up to eighty, though I doubted he believed me.

"Thanks." I said, offering a small grin before beginning to drum my fingers on my legs in an effort to keep me distracted from the lake.

Once we had reached the mainland, it was a relatively short drive. Crane had turned off onto a road that sent us climbing up the hill on which the asylum sat, if you could call it that. The old mansion stood tall, proud, despite its purpose and history.

Crane parked in the employee lot, stepping out of the car and opening my door for me. I gazed about, sighing as I did so. This was the last place that I wanted to be.

"Is everything alright, Addison?" Crane's voice came, interrupting my thoughts.

"Uh-huh." I responded shortly, my eyes settling on the mansion. I felt Crane's hand as he placed it on my back, guiding me forward.

"I'd like for you to meet Jeremiah Arkham, if that's alright with you." He said, his hand dropping slightly lower on my back, drawing my eyes to his arm briefly.

"Absolutely. I'd be honored." I agreed with a light smile, attempting to make the lie less evident. We transcended the stone stairs that led to the asylum's entrance rather quickly, opening the doors and stepping into the warm foyer.

The mansion was decorated by dark wood and deep shades of red, green, and purple. The floors were made of stone, lending themselves to the cold decoration.

"Right this way." Crane directed, gesturing to the left. We turned off into a hallway, following it until we reached the end. At last removing his hand from my back, Crane began to knock on the door.

"Come in." A low, quiet voice invited. Crane twisted the knob, waving me into the room. I entered in front of him, my eyes adjusting easily to the dimly lit room. Standing from his desk was a tall, chestnut haired man of middling age. A sly smile lit his face, giving him a predatory look. "You must be Addison Wayne." He began, moving around his desk and extending his hand.

"Yes," I replied, grasping his hand and shaking it firmly.

"I am Jeremiah Arkham. Welcome to my asylum." He greeted pleasantly.

"A pleasure, sir." I returned, pulling my hand from his grip. Arkham gave a laugh, his smile growing.

"I can assure you, Miss Wayne, the pleasure is all mine." He countered, returning to his desk. "I hope that the next twenty-four hours will be comfortable for you."

_Ha!_ That was humorous. I doubted that such a thing was possible.

"I'm sure that they will be. Dr. Crane has been nothing but courteous thus far." I assured him, drawing a smile from Crane.

"Of course," Arkham said, a grin spreading across his face again. He sat down in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk's surface. "Such is to be expected."

"Dr. Arkham," Crane interjected. "This meeting has been enjoyable, but I'd really like to begin another session with Miss Wayne."

Arkham nodded. "As you wish, Dr. Crane." He nodded, motioning to the door. I exited first, allowing Crane to shut the door behind him.

"Well Addison, shall we proceed?"

* * *

Five minutes later found us in what Dr. Crane called a "consultation room". The room was vast compared to the one at the hospital, and was lit only by a small lamp on an end table next to the couch and the smallest bit of grey light that came from a tiny window.

"Is there a reason that this room is so dimly lit?" I asked, curious.

"Yes, actually." Crane began, setting his briefcase down on another table adjacent to his chair. "We've found that the lighting can take away feelings of unease when we speak to patients. Really, it's to create a more relaxing environment." He explained, taking a seat. I followed suit, carefully reclining on the couch.

"Ah." I acknowledged, nodding once. I brought my knees up to my chest as Crane pulled out his pencil and clipboard again, prepared to interrogate me again.

"So," He began, crossing his legs. "I believe we concluded our last session with a conversation about The Joker."

Oh god. God, _no_. How much more would I be forced into telling Crane? What lengths would he go to in order to learn the truth?

"Did we?" I asked in a monotone voice, attempting to sound uninterested.

"Yes, we did. You told me that you didn't know your sentiments towards him, other than anger, that is." He reminded me. I said nothing in response, allowing Crane to continue. "Would this anger also stem from The Joker's appearance at your birthday party?"

I swallowed hard, biting my cheek before answering. "Not so much."

"And why not?" Crane questioned, leaning forward slightly.

"Because my life wasn't threatened at that time. I was upset that he'd endangered the lives of my guests, though." I replied calmly.

"I see." Crane said, putting his pencil to the paper on the clipboard. "Those that were interviewed yesterday said that you were interacting with The Joker. Is this true?"

I inhaled lightly, steadying my heartbeat. The room had increased in temperature, causing my throat to go dry. "Yes, it's true. I accepted a bomb he gave me as a gift."

"Interesting," Crane observed. "This brings up a question: was that the first time that you've interacted with The Joker?"

The fire in my throat blazed stronger, causing me inhale deeply in order to satisfy my scorching insides. "Yes, Dr. Crane, it was. I try as much as is possible to avoid run-ins with psychopathic criminals." I lied in a bitter voice. At my words, Crane removed his glasses, placing them upon the end table along with his other materials.

"Addison, I'm not accustomed to being lied to as such." He started, steepling his fingers. I opened my mouth to interject, but Crane held up a hand, signifying me to remain silent. "People that lie to me usually find that they regret their decision." I informed me, standing and stopping next to the couch.

The threat burned in my ears, forcing my heart to beat wildly as a result. "Dr. Crane, I can assure you that-"

My sentence was cut off as I found myself falling to the ground as the couch was overturned. I landed with a thud against cold stone floor, groaning lightly in pain. Crane loomed over me, his icy eyes cooling the heat.

"I warned you. I don't have the patience for this." He hissed, reaching down to grasp my wrist. I propelled myself backwards, my head hitting the wall. I struggled to stand, but was brought to the floor again by an electrical cord. The lamp was pulled to the ground with a crash, erasing the main source of light in the room. I heaved myself upright, my hands pressed against the walls, navigating the room.

"At any rate," Crane chuckled, his voice drawing nearer. "Getting you to talk should be fun."

"Stay away from me." I spat, backing into the corner I had stumbled into, praying that I could become invisible. Crane gave a small but condescending laugh. In the dark I couldn't see him, but I knew he was close. Back against the wall, I moved to my right, trying to avoid contact with him. It didn't work.

"Gotcha." He whispered harshly. I let out a cry as he grabbed onto my waist, pulling me against him. A powdery substance flew into my face, one which I inhaled in my gasps.

"Addison," He growled my name, teeth digging roughly into the skin of my shoulder. I let out a desperate, frightened cry, pushing my hands against him in a furious attempt to escape. He held me to him with one arm, slipping a burlap mask over his face. "Meet Scarecrow."

* * *

**_Hey guys! Apologies for the wicked long time between updates; it's the holiday season, which means I'm super busy with school, Christmas shopping, and work. That, and this chapter was a bit difficult to write initially. However, someone will finally make his reappearance in the next chapter, so be looking for it!_**

**_I'll be putting my playlist for this story on my profile within the next couple of days. If you've got an suggestions, post them in a review or send them to me, and I'll check 'em out._**

**_Reviews and messages are always welcome!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19**_

* * *

I shot up from sleep with a gasp, panting heavily in order to catch my breath. In the utter blackness of the room, memories danced before my mind: inhaling the toxin, Crane's guttural growls, his vice-like grip. But most of all, the tattered burlap sack that covered his face.

_Scarecrow._

A stinging sensation bubbled up from my shoulder. I recalled Crane's teeth digging into my skin, marking me. I reached up, wincing at the pain, my fingers trembling as they brushed the damaged skin.

"God," I breathed, passing my hands over the dried blood that had crusted on top of the wound. My teeth found my lower lip, digging into it. I closed my eyes, anger flaring up within me. It was enough to drive me to murdering Crane. I stood from the hard twin bed on which I had been placed, my feet coming into contact with the cold stone floor. I stumbled blindly about the room, searching until my feet at last found my shoes, stepping into them. I placed my hands against the wall, tracing its outline until at last coming into contact with the door. Turning the knob, I stepped out into the hallway.

It was night. The moon shone into the hall through the windows in the foyer. Assessing my surroundings, I exhaled loudly, beginning to descend the stairs. I couldn't quite explain it, but there was something eerie about walking alone in the utter silence of the night, particularly in Arkham Asylum.

My eyes traced the foyer, searching for any source of light. I found it, coming from yet another hallway behind me. I turned on my heels, moving through to the hall. There were cells on either side of me, no doubt where the inmates resided. From my left, I heard barking and panting, like that of a dog. I shuddered, increasing my pace till I reached the end of the hallway, stopping at a door that served as a resting place for a plaque with Crane's name on it.

It took mere seconds for Crane to appear before me in the doorway. Little light came from his office, save for that which the television produced. He had removed his suit coat, leaving his button-down shirt entirely visible.

"Miss Wayne," He began, reaching up to straighten his tie. "Not that your presence isn't enjoyable, but is there any particular reason for you visiting me at midnight?"

I narrowed my eyes at his words. "You know damn well why I'm here, Crane." I hissed, pulling the strap of my tank top to the side in order to reveal the mark he'd made on my skin. My anger flared as he eyed the bite with interest and pleasure, a small, rapacious smile spreading across his lips.

"I see." Crane nodded, waving me into his office. I stood my ground, refusing the invitation. He gave a chuckle, removing his glasses from his face and clipping them to his shirt. "Well, Addison, I must say that I'm not sorry. It was too rare an opportunity, experimenting and leaving my mark on a member of Gotham's elite, that is, to pass up"

My nails dug viciously into my palms, my rage flaring even more. "Thank you for informing me of that, Doctor Crane. I'll be sure to relay said information to my attorney when I press charges." I spat, a smirk lighting my face.

Crane simply smiled pleasantly. "Very well, Addison. I'll remember that when sharing information about you and your connection to The Joker with People magazine and Gotham Cable News." He countered. Clearly, his threat trumped mine. His reputation had already been tarnished; there was little that could affect him. "Now, Miss Wayne, if that's all, I'd be delighted to escort you back to your room." Crane offered, his grin still in place.

In the midst of my rage, I felt a vibration from the pocket of my jeans. Who would be calling me at this hour?

"Your offer is gracious indeed, Doctor Crane. However, I believe that I'm capable of returning to my room sans assistance." I hissed, turning on my heels and running down the hall, ducking into an alcove in the wall and pulling my phone from my pocket. _Restricted caller_. Exhaling sharply, I answered the call. "What?" I greeted harshly.

"Whoa, why so touchy, sweetheart?" A familiar voice questioned before continuing: "I would've thought you'd be, uh, _happy _to hear from me, especially considering your current _predicament_."

"How do you know that I'm in Arkham?" I inquired angrily.

The Joker gave a sigh of annoyance at having to remind of words he'd spoken before. "I told you before; I just _know_ things."

Almost instantly, my heart rate doubled. A strange, warm feeling coiled within my stomach, rising up into my chest. "Why are you calling me?" I inquired, struggling to keep the harsh edge to my words.

"Hey, listen, doll face," He started, smacking his lips loudly. "If you'd rather stay there in Arkham, that's your decision. But if you want out, I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I considered for a moment. Though I absolutely loathed the idea of being rescued for the second time in two days, I could hardly reject his offer. After all, remaining in Arkham when there was a possibility of escape could very well brand me insane.

"Good. I want the hell out of Arkham." I responded.

"I don't blame you, Addie. Any self-respecting lunatic would say the same thing." He said with a chuckle. I opened my mouth to retort, but was met with a beeping sound that informed me that The Joker had hung up. Snapping my phone shut, I slipped it into my pocket. I folded my arms over my chest, attempting to lock heat into my body. The Arkham hallways that had been so warm upon my arrival were now utterly freezing. My heart rate seemed to grow louder by the second, reminding me that Crane was only yards away and that I hadn't escaped yet.

In spite of myself, I gave a chuckle at the thought. What I was about to do couldn't be classified as a rescue, nor could I see it solely as escape. What was about to occur was recapture; recapture that I was longing for.

Twenty minutes must have passed more quickly than I had anticipated, because the doors to Arkham swung open, revealing The Joker, who was holding a machine gun. The gun, I was sure, was for good measure. I stood my ground, waiting for him to approach me. He didn't. The Joker stood, gazing at me expectantly. I remained immobile.

"Not that I'm not, uh, thrilled to see you, princess, but could you stop _dawdling_ and get over here? I've had a busy day, and having a run-in with _C-rane_ isn't really something I'm in the _mood_ for."

Digging my nails into palms, stomped forward, stopping in front of The Joker. Almost too quickly for me to process, his hand flew to my arm, pulling me outside of the Asylum. I gritted my teeth at the sight of my car, which appeared to have become very useful for The Joker. Rushing down the steps, I found myself being forced into the passenger's seat, the door slamming shut behind me. Once The Joker had entered the already-running car, his foot collided hard with the gas pedal, propelling the vehicle into motion.

The silence between us unnerved me slightly, causing my teeth to find my cheek, biting into it.

"You realize that I was only going to be in Arkham for twenty-four hours, correct?" I questioned, immediately regretting it.

The Joker gave a long, exasperated sigh. "I _told _you, sweetheart, I _know_ things."

"I know you know things," I replied, equally exasperated. "But why even bother? Why not just wait until I was out?"

The Joker smacked his lips, a grin lighting his face. "Well, ya see, baby doll," He began, shifting his gaze to me. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I missed ya something _fierce_."

* * *

**_Hey, guys! I suppose an apology is in order: I'm very sorry that it took me so long to update. My laptop broke down last month, and I just got it back last week. On top of that, I had to rewrite this chapter, since I hadn't saved before my laptop died on me. Thankfully, I can start writing chapter twenty, which will definitely be up much sooner than this one. _**

**_Ok. A couple of other things. The playlist for this story is going to be up on my profile very soon, so you should definitely check it out. If anyone has ideas, I can add songs to the list at a later point. If not, that's cool._**

**_Also- I've been getting a lot of messages from people asking me questions. So, I've decided to take some of them and answer them; those will, at a later date, be on my profile as well. If anyone has a question, you can either message me or leave it in review form._**

**_Lastly, this story shall be coming to a close within a few chapters. Sad, I know. The most chapters I'm planning on writing is twenty-five, most likely less. However, as the ending of this story will show, I'm definitely planning on writing a sequel. If you have questions about the sequel, feel free to ask them as well._**

**_I'll stop blabbering. Hopefully you guys are pleased with the re-introduction of The Joker._**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20**_

* * *

The world passed by in little more than a flash of the few lights that illuminated Gotham's streets. The Joker's driving speed, which should have been reserved for the Autobahn, blurred all things within my sight.

The silence ate away at me, causing my teeth to sink into my lip, easing my frayed nerves. Finally, I gathered the courage to ask the question that had plagued me.

"Are you… _mad_ at me?"

The car slowed slightly as The Joker gave a sigh. "No, princess. I'm not _mad,_" He began, casting a sideways glance at me. "But I'm annoyed as _hell_. Next time when you run away from me, don't get yourself into these little dilemmas."

I squeezed my eyes shut, chastising myself. I shouldn't have run, I _knew_ I shouldn't have. Running always got me into more trouble. But I couldn't help myself. I was afraid of The Joker and of everything that tied me to him, _especially_ love. In running away, I had sought to escape the frightening revelation that was upon me the entire time; I was intrigued, infatuated with the mystery and chaos that were synonymous with The Joker. And that infatuation had rooted itself into my soul; a weed where blossoms once grew, taking over my being.

My ruminations were interrupted by a sudden slamming of the breaks. I flew forward, cursing as I did so, my seatbelt tugging back on me and temporarily cutting off my air. I gasped, swallowing as much oxygen as was possible.

"What the hell was _that_?" I inquired in a hiss.

"Uh, not that it isn't painfully obvious, Addie, but we're _here_."

Glancing in front of me, I saw that we were, in fact, parked in front of the abandoned building. Narrowing my eyes, I opened the car door, stepping to the ground.

The warehouse looked the same as ever; dingy, dark. And yet it was all too familiar; a place that I would always associate with The Joker. However, it was, at this point, utterly silent.

"Where are your clowns?"

"Well, sweetheart, I gave them the night off." He answered, licking his lips, his hand clenching onto my wrist. "Y'see, we've got some important… _business_, to attend to."

"Oh, yeah?" I responded, growing slightly worried. What business was he speaking of? Now that I was out of Arkham, would he use me to execute another one of his plans?

"Don't dance around it." He hissed, yanking my wrist up violently in front of my face. "You and I need to have a nice, _long_ conversation, doll face. The stakes have shifted since the last time we met, and I think we both need to know where we, uh, stand."

"What're you saying?" I questioned cautiously, struggling to pull my wrist free. No words passed between us as his grip transferred to my upper arm, dragging me, with difficulty, up the metal stairs. I expected him to pull me into his office, but was surprised when he moved further down the hall, stopping at the last door and flinging it open, pushing me inside.

The sight I was met with was that of what I assumed to be The Joker's bedroom. The room was lit only by the illumination that night sky offered, and The Joker didn't bother to turn on any lights.

The room was both similar and different to my imaginings; scraps of paper and several books covered the floor, proof that The Joker was indeed intelligent. A beaten up dresser stood in the corner of the room, several socks hanging over the edges of the drawers. A cracked mirror sat in the corner opposite the dresser, both distorting and reflecting it. What surprised me, though, was that the bed was neatly made; a sharp contrast to the disorder of the rest of the room.

The Joker shoved me to the edge of his bed, forcing me to sit. He then leaned up against the wall, pulling his switchblade from his pocket and playing with it as he began to speak: "Just so you know," He began, pointing the blade at me. "Now's not the time to play dumb."

"I could've guessed." I muttered, my nails biting into the skin of my palms. The Joker gave a chuckle, slipping the blade into his pocket and removing his coat, letting it fall to the floor.

"Y'know, you could be something, if you really wanted to." He said. I furrowed my brows in question. The Joker proceeded to explain: "I'll tell you why: it's because there's more to you than what everyone thinks. You're powerful and you're smart, doll face. And not a lot of people know you like _I _know you."

"What makes you think you know me so well?" I asked in a growl, narrowing my eyes. I watched as The Joker flicked his tongue over his lip, preparing to continue.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm good at reading people." He reminded me with a lopsided grin, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. "Not to mention that I've seen how you react in different… situations."

Though I was reluctant to admit so, his reasons were, in fact, truth. He'd been analyzing me since our first meeting, decoding every bit of me and exploiting what he could.

"I've tried to send signals to let you know that I'm totally in tune with _every part of you_, but you just kept ignoring them. And then you got yourself thrown into Arkham with _cr-azy_ Crane."

"I didn't know Crane had anything to do with this." I responded sharply, standing from my spot on the bed. My arms were folded over my chest, displaying my hotheadedness.

"Listen, beautiful." He addressed me, stepping forward. "I'm not really a feeling type of guy, but I've got this little… _attachment_ to you. That means I don't want to see you get yourself into these stupid fucking messes all the time- like getting thrown into Arkham." He told me, referencing one of my most idiotic mistakes. However, something he'd said had slashed through my heart from terror, snuffing its beats momentarily.

"By bringing this up, you mean that…"

"I know that you've got some pathetic thing for me."

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to God that The Joker wasn't really telling me this, that he was kidding. But no such relief came to me. Instead, a slap on the cheek brought me back to the cruel reality in which I was living, causing me to gaze upon the man before me.

"I'm not saying it's a _bad_ thing," He continued with a grin. "It means that you're _mine_. I can do whatever I want with you, and you won't be able to resist."

He was right about that. Although I always tried to defy him simply because it was in my nature to behave so, I ultimately gave in to his demands.

"Let's be totally honest, doll face. I've been waiting for… far too long to _fuck_ your pretty little brains out." He hissed. Expectant nervousness along with desire coiled within me, creating a gut-wrenching feeling that threatened to rip out of me. The Joker looked at me expectantly, waiting for a response. When I offered none, he prodded: "Don't try and tell me you didn't know that, Addie.

"I'm not oblivious, Joker." I hissed, addressing him by his name. I was forced to admit that I had suspected as much, however subconsciously. The way his lips attacked mine, his mischievous and lustful gazes, his markings on my skin; each served as authentication for the desire that The Joker felt for me, and, likewise, mine for him.

"I can make you writhe, doll face." He continued, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "I can make you scream my name. I promise you, no one else will be able to satisfy you again."

My breathing grew heavier at his words, longing growing increasingly prominent within me. I made a feeble attempt to disguise the breaths as calming ones, though I knew I had failed. "I want you to do it." I whispered, edging forward slightly.

"Good," He began, a wide grin spreading across his face. He stepped forward, grabbing a handful of my hair, pulling me to him. "I told you the stakes had shifted. I knew you wanted me too, sweetheart." He growled, pressing his mouth roughly to mine.

He was right. The stakes _had _shifted. There was far more to lose in this game than there had been before; my heart, my sanity, my conscience, and, ultimately, my _life_. I was treading in dangerous waters, and if I didn't swim to shore, my only options were to drown or to allow the shark that circled about, ready to devour me.

All thoughts left my mind, though, as The Joker forced his tongue passed my lips, engaging mine fierce battle. I felt one of his arms slip away from me, the other tightening around my body. I drew in a sharp breath as The Joker fumbled with my jeans, struggling to unbutton them through our kiss. Finally, he gave frustrated sigh, breaking away from my lips, lifting me and throwing me onto the bed behind us. Within seconds he was over me, pulling the jeans from my legs, throwing them to the floor. I removed my shirt even more easily, lifting it over my head, leaving me in my underwear. Eagerness building up within my core, I sat up, nipping at The Joker's neck as I worked to unbutton his waistcoat. I heard him laugh in response.

"I've always liked your fire, doll face."

I ignored his comment, casting the waistcoat to the ground. He joined me in stripping off his shirt and tie. His toned torso sported many scars and bruises, attesting to his love of danger and to his masochism.

The Joker worked quickly, however, to draw my attention from him as he placed his callused hands on my stomach, roaming my body, rough in gesture as well as in touch. I exhaled as his hands reached behind me, pulling the sheets back and moving so they covered us both.

Finally, The Joker tore at my remaining garments, extracting them from my frame. I dug my nails into the skin of his shoulders as he turned his attention to his clothing, inhaling his scent: a combination of gunpowder, blood, and leather.

Our last articles of clothing joined the pile on the floor within seconds, and were as quickly forgotten. I felt The Joker's arms slip under me, pressing me to him as he bit at the skin of my neck. My nails dug deeper into his shoulders, eliciting a groan from him.

"Ready for the romance, sweetheart?" He asked, his gaze locking with mine, his scars smiling sinisterly with him.

Wetting my lips, I nodded. "_Yes._"

God only knew what the morning would bring, but for now, I was without fear, without remorse, and without need for anything but The Joker.

* * *

**_Hey guys! I know, it's been almost a month since I updated, and for that I apologize. Midterms/Finals and college stuff have been sucking up my life and time, but I figured that I owed you all a little bit of mad love this Valentine's Day; after all, it IS the best kind!_**

**_Another thing: I've been getting quite a few questions concerning this story and the two sequels I plan to write. Like I said, I plan to answer these questions and post them here, and I plan to do it soon. So, if you've got any questions, just ask! I'm willing to answer anything, even something totally random._**

**_Ok, well, there's going to be four or five more chapters at the most, so, with that being said, I'd like to make the promise that I will be finished with this story before May. It sounds like a long time, but I've got a lot going on, as I stated, so it's gonna take a little bit of time. After, though, you've got another story coming up to look forward to!_**

**_Thanks for understanding!_**

**_-HarlequinEnigma_**


	21. Chapter 21

_**Chapter 21**_

* * *

When my eyes fluttered open, there were several things that both shocked and, for the briefest moment, frightened me. First, there was the utter absence of illumination. Not even a sliver of light could be found to identify my whereabouts. There was also no sound, save for my breath and the breath of another person. Along with these things came the feeling of being trapped. Arms stretched over both of my shoulders, their hands pressed tightly to my abdomen; holding me in place against another body. I felt the heat of the person next to me, felt their bare skin against my naked body.

The Joker.

He must have gotten up at some point and drawn the dark, heavy curtains, thus shutting all light out of the room. I had half a mind to disentangle my limbs from his and open the curtains slightly, which would give me enough light to see, at least. However, his arms folded over me were not like those of a gentle lover. Instead, they were like those of a master; powerful and controlling, holding me within a cage.

I had not moved much since I had awoken, giving me the opportunity to close my eyes and at least pretend I was asleep; God knew that The Joker wasn't, and I hardly felt like a confrontation right now.

"I know you're awake, doll face." The Joker informed me, having not moved an inch. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter for a moment, gathering myself before saying anything.

"I know." I returned, turning my head so that I could see him. His make-up was smudged, the black around his eyes now dulled to a shade of charcoal. His ever-smiling lips were curved upward, the red on them having been smeared from his to mine. I bit down on my tongue, struggling with the truth: I had been fucked by The Joker.

"Whatsa matter, sweetheart?" He questioned, propping his head up on his arm. "I would've thought that you'd be all _smiles_, considering... _y'know._"

I groaned inwardly at his words. I knew that he wouldn't ignore the opportunity to remind me just how much I wanted him. It was his charm, his mystery, his power; his rejection of not only that which _I_ hated, but what I held dear as well that made me desire him so strongly. He was pure sin, pure danger, pure nihilism.

But… there was also a past to him that I didn't know, nor would I most likely learn. This, strangely, came as a surprise to me. I had only been aware of the psychopathic, anarchy loving side of him that he displayed to the world. That part had hardly faded away (and how could it ever?), but I could see that beneath the permanently puckered scars and the malicious glimmer in his eyes, there was a man. Not a good man, not a loving man, just a human; not just my god of death. He was someone that, though immortal through his actions, could _die_.

Finally pushing my ruminations away, I gave a shrug. What exactly _could _I say to the murderous clown that lay next to me?

My lack of response drew a frustrated groan from The Joker. "C'mon, Addie, don't be like this. I think you should at least _talk_ to me after everything I've done for you."

"What is this?" I finally asked, propping myself up to mirror his position. "What are we?"

The Joker gave a sigh at my words. "You women all have the same damn question."

"Just _answer_ me." I hissed, drawing my body away from his, rolling to the other side of the bed.

"Lovers, whatever. Anything that means were fucking now." He responded, giving a chuckle. "See? _That's_ the Addie that I know and…" He trailed off. I bit my tongue, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew that The Joker would never love me; I always had. I knew that he at least cared about my existence, which, coming from The Joker, meant a lot.

I felt The Joker's hands as they latched onto my arms, pulling me to him again. Before I could protest, I was pressed against him once more, his lips connecting with mine. I felt his tongue push past my lips, sweeping through my mouth. Giving a moan, I knotted my fingers into his greasy tendrils. No matter how much I fought against my desires, they would always spring forth, having been easily awoken by him.

Reluctantly, I broke away, sitting up against the head board.

"I have to go to." I informed him. It was Tuesday, the one day that Bruce required my presence for at Wayne Enterprises.

"Oh no, princess." The Joker said, dragging me down to his level and moving so his torso covered mine. "You're _never_ gonna run away again. If you have to leave me, it'll only be after a long, satisfying fuck. Then you'll come straight back. It won't be easy, I can promise you."

"I have to go to work, and so do you." I reminded him, positive that there was some sort of task that he needed to accomplish today in his "job". Giving an aggravated grunt, he rolled off of me, moving to get up from the bed. Before he could stand, though, I placed a hand on his chest, forcing him back down to the bed, climbing on top of him.

"You just said you wouldn't let me go without a long, satisfying fuck." I began, snaking my arms around his neck. I saw a grin begin to spread with his permanent smile. "I thought you were a man of your word."

Flipping me so that he was over me, he answered: "Oh, _trust me_, doll face. I am."

* * *

Hey, guys! I know, it's been almost a month since I've updated. As was my lame excuse for last time, I've been really busy with senior stuff. It's totally not cool. I also apologize for the short length of this chapter. I tried to make it longer, but it just didn't seem right. If I follow my plan that I've attempted to work up for this story, there should be only two chapters left. I've got several little ideas going on in my head for other Batman stories, but my priorities lie in Addie and her story.

Also, I mentioned before that I've been getting loads of questions. I will post my answers not in my profile, but as a chapter within this story. I will try and upload them as soon as possible, along with chapter twenty-two. My goal, though it seems ambitious to me at this point, is to have this story completed by April.

Thanks,

Harley


	22. Intermission: An Interview

TJATQOH Questions

* * *

Hey, guys! So, I've been getting lots of questions from you, as I said, and I've decided to take the time to answer some of them. Some questions are about my current story, some about my other writings, and some about me as well. So, without further ado, I give you the responses to your inquiries!

* * *

Q: What was it that made you decide to start writing _The Joker and the Queen of Hearts_ (TJATQOH)?

A: Well, I've always been both a Heath Ledger AND a Batman fan, so when the two combined, I was absolutely thrilled. Unfortunately, Heath left us before he was able to deliver another great, completed performance. After watching Heath's amazing acting as The Joker, I knew that I had to write a story with him in it. Hence, TJATQOH was born.

Q: Who is your favorite Batman villain?

A: Oh man. Well, I'd say that should be fairly obvious. It's definitely The Joker, followed by the amazing Harley Quinn, with whom I share a name. I love each and every villain, though. They all have something unique that makes them great characters.

Q: You said that your name really was Harley. Is this true? Do you identify a lot with Harley Quinn?

A: Haha, I knew this would come up. Yes, my name actually is Harley. I explained my name in my profile, but I will explain it again: my dad was once a biker, a HARDCORE biker. As my mother has said, he begged her to name me Harley after the motorcycles that he so loved. My mother, out of love, decided that she would allow it. Now my father is an upstanding businessman, but he still loves my name. I wouldn't say that I identify as much with Harley Quinn as I do with Harleen Quinzel, just because I'm more laid-back than my harlequin counterpart. I've actually written some stuff about Harley, just to see how I'd feel about using my name with an already established character. It didn't feel strange at all, really, since I know that it's not self-insertation.

Q: How did you come up with the main character of your story, Addie?

A: I was just trying to create someone that I thought might be interesting for The Joker to interact with; someone full of contradiction, someone that he had to figure out. Needless to say, Addie has her flaws. I tried to stay out of the way of the many Mary-Sues that sneak their ways into both original and fan fiction. I think Addie would be kind of hard to be friends with, but I like her.

Q: How many stories are you planning on telling about Addie and her life?

A: Just three. I've got the next two tentatively planned out.

Q: What other stories are you planning on working on (those outside of your TJATQOH trilogy)?

A: Well, I'm hoping to do a Harley/Joker one, like so many seem to be doing. I also would like to do a Bruce story. Maybe something from Sweeney Todd as well.

Q: Sooo, since you're writing two more stories within the series, that must mean that you're using some other villains, too! Wanna tell us who they are and how they might be involved in the story?

A: Hehe, of course. Well, I'm not exactly sure about several villains, but I know for fact that Edward Nigma, a.k.a. The Riddler, will play a large part in Addie's life in the next story. I believe that I'll end up using Poison Ivy, but I might change my mind and go for Catwoman. I don't know. Of course, The Joker is the main focus when it comes to villains. I'm not gonna say anything else, but I happen to love Batman villains, as I said before, and will try to use them as best I can.

Q: What is your favorite book?

A: Blah, I hate questions like this. That's a very hard question, actually. Well, I like anything Shakespeare (yes, I know they're plays, but since I can read them, I'm counting them). My favorite _books_ are probably _Pride and Prejudice_, _The Phantom of the Opera_, the _Blue is for Nightmare's_ series, _Harry Potter_, and _Lord of the Rings_. I hardly deem this to be a fair question, since I read so many books. I also like a lot of Celtic stuff; faeries are quite fun to read about.

Q: If you wouldn't mind answering, what's your heritage?

A: Weird question, but I'm pretty much straight Celtic. Mostly Irish, some Scottish, and a little Welsh, all with a pinch of Dutch.

Q: What's your favorite food?

A: Um, well, I like a lot of stuff. Chocolate makes me amazingly happy, along with other such sweet things. To be totally honest, though, I'm in love with oatmeal. I don't know why, but I'm kind of addicted to it.

Q: What made you decide to make Addie be Bruce's cousin?

A: I decided to interpret Bruce's being "the last Wayne" to being the last Wayne able to pass on the name, just for this story. I also love Bruce, and I felt like, were I to have done something else with Addie, he wouldn't have really shown up in the story, since I didn't want to do a Bruce/OC/Joker kind of thing. I liked playing around with their relationship as cousins, as well. Bruce will probably have a larger role in the next two stories.

Q: What are some of your hobbies?

A: Aside from writing, I like to bake, sing, act, and dance.

Q: The Joker and Addie have a very complex relationship. How would you describe it?

A: I would say that the relationship between The Joker and Addie is one based heavily on primal evil and desire, which is why Addie is afraid of it initially. She's never felt such deep, dark emotions as the ones that The Joker draws out of her. Eventually, in the next two stories, she will fully accept them, which will have interesting results.

As for The Joker, he views Addie as something different. Unlike other girls he's run into, she doesn't beg and show weakness to him. The Joker is obviously possessive of her, which is why he's trying his best to corrupt her and draw her into his chaos.

Q: Got any spoilers for your next story? Have you decided on a title?

A: Yes, I have decided on a title. I don't feel that I'm giving much away by telling you what it is: _A Harlequin's Gamble_. As for spoilers? Hmm… I don't wanna give too much away, but I will say this: Addie must choose the path she wants her life to take and, by making her decision, she will be affecting several people that are very important to her.

Q: Got any other superheroes that you really like?

A: Yup! I've always been a fan of Spider Man as well, along with Iron Man and Super Man. I basically just like superheroes. None of them top Batman, though.

Q: Besides _Batman Begins_ and _Dark Knight_, what are some of your other favorite movies?

A: To start off, anything with Johnny Depp or Heath Ledger. Definitely my two favorite actors. Besides those movies, I really like _Pride and Prejudice_, _Moulin Rouge_, _The Phantom of the Opera_ (musical), _Harry Potter, _and the _Lord of the Rings_ movies.

Q: Does Crane have a thing for Addie, too?

A: Well… that's kind of an interesting idea. Crane and Addie together… huh. I suppose, if that's the way you interpret the text, then he does. If not, then he doesn't. The way I saw it was that Crane just really wanted to overpower Addie and break her down so that he can use her for what he needs (this will be one of the concluding things in TJATQOH).

Q: What is your favorite color?

A: Ah. The color question. My top three favorite are purple, black, and red.

Q: What's the best bit of advice you can give to a fan fiction writer?

A: Hmm… good question. Well, I'd say that in order to successfully write fan fiction, a writer needs to, above all, stay true to the characters. If you know the universe in which you are writing for, then you know that there are certain things that the characters you are working with would never do or say. Don't force a character to do what doesn't seem natural of them to do. If it doesn't feel like them, then it isn't like them.

Q: Got anything random that you'd like to announce?

A: Yes. Potatoes are actually very delicious.

* * *

Well, there you have it; the answers to (most) of your questions! The next chapter should be up relatively soon, although it may be a short one.

Till then, farewell!

-Harley


	23. Chapter 22

_**Chapter 22**_

* * *

As far as mornings go, I could hardly consider mind-blowing sex as a bad way to start the day. The Joker had finally given up my car, allowing me to drive to my apartment in order to hide the evidence. Upon arriving, I had taken a quick shower and gotten dressed quickly, as I was already late for work. I dug through the cupboards in the kitchen, searching for and finally locating a granola bar which was destined to be my breakfast.

Re-entering my car, I unwrapped the granola bar, biting greedily into it. I noted that I had done a relatively poor job of keeping myself fed, lately, mentally shrugging at the realization. I didn't care; my mood was, for the moment, quite good.

After devouring my small breakfast, I drove into the parking garage nearest to Wayne Enterprises, exiting my car and locking it. Throwing my keys into my purse, I began walking. Only several minutes passed before I was opening to entrance door to the Wayne Enterprises building. I nodded to those working at the front desk before stepping into the elevator, traveling to the top floor. Once the doors opened, I let my purse fall from my shoulder to the crook of my arm. I could feel the heat of people's gazes as I strode easily down the hallway and entered my office, throwing my purse down onto my desk. Today, I had a feeling, would be a good day.

Before I could sit down, I heard a knock against the frame of my door. Glancing up, I saw Bruce. The look on his face spoke of concern and annoyance.

"Uh, morning, Bruce." I greeted. He stepped into my office, tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Addie. It's been four days since I last heard from you. _Four days._ And I heard you went to the hospital." He informed me, his voice chiding.

"Yes, I did. And I'm sorry it's been so long." I returned, my mood still bright despite this confrontation.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" He questioned angrily. I inhaled deeply, shaking my head.

"Look, Bruce, I said I was sorry, and I meant it. Bottom line? I'm ok. You don't have to worry about me so much." I told him, offering a reassuring smile. Bruce gave a frustrated sigh, pulling a hand out of his pocket and threading it through his hair

"I know that you're able to take care of yourself, Addie. You're not a child, and I respect that." He began, looking at me in order to make sure he had my attention. I nodded. "But you're the only family I have left, and you're my best friend. I mean, we've both lost everyone else so easily, and I don't know what I'll do if you go, too."

My eyes softened at his words. I moved forward, enveloping Bruce in a tight hug. His somber speech did not fit with my currently buzzing mood, but I humored him nonetheless.

"Hey, it's ok. I can look after myself, and your worries are perfectly valid." I said, patting him on the back. I pulled away, giving him a bright grin.

"You're very happy today." Bruce pointed out, my grin catching to his face. "Why's that, I wonder?"

"Let's not play the guessing game, please." I entreated, walking around one section of my desk and sitting in my chair.

"I don't need any guesses to know that you've been getting more than me, lately." Bruce stated, his grin teasing. My eyes widened. I picked the newspaper up off of the surface in front of me, hitting my cousin's arm with it.

"How can you tell?" I questioned, embarrassed and nervous. I didn't want my cousin to discover that I'd been sneaking around having sex with The Joker.

"It's in your face and the fact that you put so much effort into fixing your hair." He said, sitting on my desk. He reached out, yanking playfully on a lock of my hair.

"You suck, Bruce." I spat, flicking his arm. He laughed, drawing away from me.

"Only according to you, Addie." He responded, his smile growing. I rolled my eyes, picking up the remote from my desk and turning on the television in my office. Bruce raised an eyebrow, looking at me with disapproval. "I thought you were here to _work_, Addie." He said in a scolding tone.

"I'm just checking the news." I told him, waving a hand dismissively. Bruce's expression changed and he nodded.

"Good idea, actually."

"Yeah, I sometimes have those."

"Quiet. I'm trying to listen."

Our exchange ended with that. I flipped through the channels, finally stopping on the Gotham Cable Network. Mike Engel spoke of the arrest of a major crime lord. While I listened with little interest, Bruce watched attentively, drinking in every word as though it meant something incredibly important to him. Several times I opened my mouth to make remarks, and several times I closed it. Bruce would probably have snapped my neck if I'd tried to speak.

I furrowed my brow as I watched Mike's facial expression change from one of passive concern to one of concealed horror. Pressing a hand against his headset, he began speaking: "Excuse the interruption; we have a breaking news bulletin. A series of shootings have been and currently are taking place in the downtown Gotham area. The streets have been cleared, and it has been advised that those in said location either seek safety or defend themselves as best they can."

Bruce's face changed as well, his subtle frown having been placed with a deep scowl. His cell phone rang, interrupting whatever thoughts he had been having while listening to the news. He looked at the number prior to answering.

"Yeah?" He greeted. I stood, confused, as he conversed with the person on the other line. Did The Joker have something to do with these shootings? And, if so, was there cause for me to be worried?

"Okay. I will." Bruce said finally, nodding. He ended the call, stuffing his phone into his pocket and lifting my purse from my desk. Before I could say a word, I felt his iron grip on my wrist, yanking me to the door. I tried to keep up as he pulled me down the hall, walking into the elevator and angrily pressing the down button.

"What the hell are you doing, Bruce?" I questioned in a cry, attempting (and failing) to pull his hand from my arm. The elevator traveled quickly, opening. I stumbled as my cousin dragged me along with him.

"I don't want you in this part of town right now. It's not safe." He informed me.

"What happened to the 'I know you can take care of yourself' discussion?" I asked, now angry.

"I'm not willing to take any chances." He told me. "Alfred is outside. He's going to take you to my apartment."

"Why your apartment?" I inquired as we moved to the doors.

"Better security system, harder to access." He said in a rush. It wasn't until we were outside, him shoving me into the back of Alfred's black Volvo that Bruce finally released his hold on me. Before slamming the door, however, I was made to promise that I wouldn't leave his apartment or allow anyone into it under any circumstances until he said it was okay.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, Bruce." I responded hurriedly. Bruce slammed the door, waving Alfred on. I watched as he ran back into the building, Wayne Enterprises slowly fading out of sight.

"Why is Bruce doing this?" I asked Alfred.

"It's only because he cares about you, Miss Wayne." He replied. I knew that was the answer I was going to get; I only hoped that he would have gone into more detail.

After arriving at Bruce's apartment building, I was escorted to his penthouse by Alfred, who, setting my purse down in the foyer, bid me goodbye.

"Where are you going, Alfred?" I questioned, annoyed. Everyone was acting entirely too strange for my liking.

"I'm sorry to have to leave you alone, but there's something that your cousin needs me to do. You can contact me if anything happens."

To this, I simply nodded, waving. Alfred shut the door behind him, leaving me alone. Folding my arms over my chest, I sighed, walking into Bruce's living room. I moved close to the window, looking out over the city. Several trails of smoke curled into the air as results of the supposed bombings. Tapping my foot hard against the floor, I bit my lip. These shootings and bombings couldn't have been done by anyone, though I doubted that they were something The Joker was doing. He generally informed his audience of what would take place, if indeed he was about to do something huge. And, though I was relieved that he wasn't the one behind the current attacks, it bothered me that I had no idea who _was_ responsible.

Amidst my thoughts, I heard my cell phone ring. Turning from the window, I ran into the foyer, sifting through my purse until I found it.

"Hello?" I answered, my breathing heavy. No words came from the other line, and I was forced to repeat my greeting. _"Hello?"_

"Are you ready?" A rough voice asked. The sound was strangely familiar, though I was unable to determine who it was.

"Ready for what?" I returned, my heartbeat quickening. I heard a loud knocking sound against the door, as though someone was trying to break it down. I took several hurried steps back, re-entering the living room and pressing myself to the wall. I looked to the ceiling, praying that nothing would happen.

_"This."_ The voice said. I heard the door break open, setting off an alarm. Dropping my cell phone, I heard it clatter to the floor, breaking against the marble, but I didn't care. I moved to run into Bruce's bedroom and barricade myself in there, but I felt a hand clutch brutally onto my arm. As I looked back, I saw that the hand belonged to Doctor Jonathan Crane; he was, at this point, accompanied by five other men, each of them holding guns.

"Let go of me!" I hissed, kicking as he dragged me back.

"Not this time." He spat in return, a sinister grin on his face. I cried out as I felt his fingers on my neck, pressing roughly, causing me to slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

**_Hey guys! I know, I said I'd have this story done by the end of the month. Well, Some stuff got in the way, but I promise that I've been working on the final chapter, which means it should be up sooner than it would have been otherwise._**

**_So, we're just coming to the end of this road, but there's a lot to look forward to in the next two stories!_**

**_Thanks,_**

**_Harley_**


	24. Chapter 23

_**

* * *

**_

When I awoke, I could instantly feel that I was sitting up, and that rope tied me to the chair in which I sat. My eyes needed little time to adjust in the light, as there was very little of it. I gave a groan, trying to ease into a state of awareness by moving the muscles that I _could_ move.

"She awake, boss?" A voice asked. My eyes widened immediately. I had no desire to be confronted by _Crane_ and his crazies. Squeezing my eyes shut, I let myself go limp in the chair again, feigning unconsciousness.

"What do _you_ think?" I heard Crane question. His voice was followed by a sharp smacking sound, suggesting that he had hit one of his henchmen. Little noise followed after that, save for ever loudening footsteps approaching me.

"Addison Wayne," Crane spoke my name slowly. Still, though, I didn't dare to open my eyes. "We've brought you here for a reason."

I made no answer to Crane's statement, breathing heavily to continue the charade of my sleeping. A sigh escaped from his lips, and I heard him draw nearer. It wasn't until he held my face roughly within his hand that I opened my eyes. He was smiling now.

"You're a smart girl, Addison," He began, drawing my face so close that I could almost feel his mouth move as he spoke. "Which means that I know you didn't honestly expect me to believe you were asleep. I'm no idiot, and you're completely aware of that."

Swallowing hard, I forced my eyes to meet his directly. "Tell me why I'm here." I demanded, remaining unmoving.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He said, releasing my face. He inhaled, preparing himself for the revealing of his motives.

"I, like most people," He started, gesturing to emphasize his words. "Have certain… _ambitions_. I _don't_ like when people get in my way."

I felt my teeth creep forward in search of my lips as I listened to him speak. Drawing them back, I opened my mouth to permit his continuation. "Yeah? And?"

"Your boyfriend has made things increasingly hard for me." Crane told me, narrowing his eyes.

"My boyfriend is _dead._" I responded, no trace of emotion in my voice as I referred to Peter. Crane simply chuckled.

"Not _that_ boyfriend. I thought we'd both acknowledged each other's intelligence." He scolded, shaking his head. "I'm talking about the one that you were so obviously in love with when we had our _session_."

My breathing stopped at his words. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I hissed, trying to conceal my shock at his discovery.

Propelling himself forward, Crane grabbed onto my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to look him in the eyes once more. "I'm a _psychiatrist_, Addison. I've written books. I've won awards. I _know_ that he's fucked you. It's completely evident; maybe not to everyone, but it is to me."

The blatant vulgarity of Crane's words threw me off momentarily, making it necessary for me to string together a sentence in my head. "Why would that make a difference to anything? My sex life is _my _business." I spat, my body tensing. Again, Crane laughed.

"The fantasy of me fucking you comes in second to what I need you for now." He informed me. My teeth bit into my tongue, remaining in place until crane released me.

"So, what is it that you need me for?" I questioned, returning my voice to its prior coldness.

"Support. You've got a lot of money, Addison, and, like I said, my ambitions reach higher than most. As a result, I need more funding; funding which _you _will be supplying." Crane explained, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"And you don't have enough funding to begin with?" I asked sardonically, raising an eyebrow. Crane offered another laugh in response to my question, his eyes meeting mine again.

"You see, Addison, unlike The Joker, I _like _to have a plan, a flawless plan; thought out and executed to perfection. This little meeting here," He paused, waving his hand in gesture to the room in which we were. "Was merely a step that needed to be taken to ensure the success of my endeavor, something that _The Joker_ jeopardized."

I slowly nodded my head, saying nothing, waiting for Crane to continue, an action which he picked up in short order.

"Before breaking you out of Arkham, The Joker managed to steal over half of the money that I'd set aside for this project. I highly doubt, in fact, I'm positive that he'll refuse to give the money back. Since you two seem to be _friendly_ with each other, it seemed only too fitting to take the money from you."

"Care to tell me which _project_ of yours I'm supposed to be funding?"

Crane took a moment to adjust his glasses before launching into another answer.

"As you may be aware of, the majority of my income came from the mob. As they stopped paying me for my services, I've decided that taking over Gotham's drug trade is the most appropriate course of action to take." He elucidated. My lips begin to throb in protest of the teeth that had crept forward, sinking into the tender skin.

"No."

"_No?_" He questioned, quirking a brow.

"You heard me, Crane. I'm not going to be your patroness." I said, shifting in my seat, searching for a method of escape. My efforts, however, were interrupted by a sharp slap across the face.

"_You_ are in no place to reject my demands right now, in case you hadn't noticed." Crane hissed, placing his hand on my neck, pressing his fingers roughly into my skin. I panted, trying to bring air to my lungs. A grin appeared on Crane's face as he slid his hand to my shoulder, pulling my shirt down slightly over my shoulder.

"It's still there." He said approvingly, gazing at the bite marks that he had left on me. Lifting a leg, I shoved my foot roughly against his chest. He stumbled back, grunting as he fell against the floor.

"You _bitch_." He spat, pulling himself up. I planted my feet against the floor, sliding my chair back until I was against the wall.

"_Shit._" I cursed, knocking the chair over, my head and body roughly hitting the ground. My head began to throb with pain, causing me to wince. I shut my eyes, hoping to dull the pain. I cried out when I felt Crane's hand tangle in my hair, yanking me up. He cut the rope tying me to the chair, throwing me across the room. I gasped for breath, my chest heaving with the effort.

"You think you can reject my demands, Addison?" Crane asked, his cool demeanor returning. One of his henchmen pulled me up from the floor, slamming me against the wall prior to punching me in my stomach. I closed my eyes as bile rose into my throat, sealing my lips shut and forcing it back down.

"Now, now," Crane cautioned, placing a hand on the back of my head. "We can't do her _too_ much damage. Only a certain amount will do."

I shivered at his touch, disgusted and hate-filled.

"However, I didn't say we were done yet." He chuckled sadistically, hitting my forehead roughly against the wall, the white tile now stained with the blood seeping from the newly formed gash where my head had hit.

The sound of gunshots caused me to open my eyes. I knew the sound of the shots. They had come to be as familiar to me as my name. I watched as a henchman crumpled in front of me.

"_Joker_." I said, my voice growing stronger.

"I'm here, doll face." He returned, stepping into view. His tongue flicked across his lips before he spoke. "Y'know, I'm not the kind of guy that you can mess with. That's _my _job, and I'm damn good at it, _Cr-ane_."

"Well then," Crane began, letting me drop to the floor. "You might not have wanted to complicate my plans as you succeeded in doing."

The Joker shook his head at Crane's words, pulling his switchblade from his coat and flipping it open. He dropped his gun, plunging the blade into the other henchman's chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to watch another person die.

"Y'know, Crane, I wouldn't have had to do that if you hadn't gone to all this trouble to _annoy_ me. I mean, it's funny, believe me, I had a good laugh about it on the way here, but did ya have to drag _Addie_ into this? Just look at her; she doesn't like watching me kill all these people."

"She's got a lot of money; something I need for this operation to work, Joker." Crane informed him, gesturing to me. The Joker merely "tsked", drawing even closer.

"I'm not gonna lie; she's the sweetest bit of pussy I've had in a _looong _time, and I can tell that you'd like to go for an, uh, _romp_ or two with her as well." He said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"What gives you that idea?" Crane questioned, his cold voice faltering momentarily. The Joker raised his eyebrows and drew back as though he were in disbelief.

"I'm pretty observant, doctor, and I noticed that you, ah, left some kinda mark on my little _cupcake_ here." The Joker said, his voice infused with pure laughter and venom, referring to the bite mark that Crane had left on my shoulder. I weakly raised an eyebrow, looking to him.

"I didn't think you knew what it was."

"Believe me, Addie, I'm not stupid." He reminded me before turning his gaze back to the man before him. "Maybe I never told you, but I'm a _greedy_ man, Crane. I don't like sharing my things. It's even _worse_ when someone damages my things. Do you think I'm gonna want to have to look at these _bruises_ when I'm fucking Addie? Do you think it'll make me happy? Do I _sound_ happy?"

Crane's lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head.

"No, you certainly do not."

The Joker sighed, pulling a detonator out of his coat.

"I'm sure you know that I like playing _games_, but I'm busy today, and I don't have time to play games with you, Johnny. So, I rigged the whole place to blow." He told Crane before muttering: "I _knew_ we'd run into this kind of shit."

Crane's eyes widened. I inhaled sharply as he pulled me up from the ground, twisting my arm until the sickening sound of something snapping fell upon my ears. I gasped, then wincing at the pain as Crane threw me to the floor. The Joker's eyes narrowed, and he progressed forward swiftly, grabbing Crane by the collar of his shirt, holding his knife in front of the doctor's face.

"I thought I just _told _you that I don't like people ruining what belongs to me." He growled. Crane closed his eyes, not responding.

"Aw, _why so serious_, Johnny boy?" He asked. He gave a blood-curdling laugh before stabbing Crane in the stomach. His eyes opened, staring at the ceiling; he was still breathing.

Approaching me, The Joker picked me up off of the floor, throwing me over his shoulder. Walking out of the room, he pressed the button, setting off the bomb.

The sounds of multiple explosions met my ears, each only seconds apart. The Joker kicked open the door that lead us outside, walking several more meters before lowering me to the ground. I watched as the warehouse we had been in was blown completely away, leaving a raging fire behind.

I propped myself up with difficulty, a million words perching on my tongue, none of them able to be spoken. The Joker bent down, slipping his switchblade into his pocket, licking his lips before brushing my hair away from my face, a gesture so gentle I would never have guessed him to be capable of doing such a thing.

"If you're a strong as I think you are," He began, placing a Joker card in the palm of my hand. "then you'll make your way out of this alive."

"What?" I questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't know how to put this to you, sweetheart, I've gotta go away for a little while. There's some… business that I need to attend to outside of Gotham. I just came here to get you out of your _predicament._" He explained. "But don't worry, baby. I'll be back. I could _never _forget you, and I don't think you could forget me. So don't, alright?"

"I won't." I vowed, too weak to argue.

I remained silent as The Joker leaned into me, placing a rough kiss upon my parched mouth followed by a pat on the cheek.

"See ya later, Addie."

I felt nothing but sick, demented longing as The Joker stood, walking away, leaving me on the ground. I knew that his promise would inevitably come true.

And I was praying for that day to arrive sooner.

* * *

_**Hey guys!**_

**_Well, there you have it; the end "The Joker and the Queen of Hearts". It took quite a while to write, and for that I apologize. Hopefully the conclusion to this story was worth the wait._**

**_Several things: I will undoubtedly be writing a sequel to this story. I have yet to start writing it, however. In the meantime, though, I've started to dabble with some Joker/Harley stuff. I have now to decide whether to focus on that story or the sequel. Your input will help, so don't be afraid to comment and tell me what you think._**

**_I'd like to thank everyone that has reviewed this story. You guys are awsome; feedback keeps me more driven than I would be otherwise. _**

**_Well, that's it, I guess. Thanks for reading!_**

**_-Harley_**


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